


We were soldiers

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Brothers in Arms [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, M/M, Military, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 132,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He slept, and dozed, and drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness for a while. Every once in a while, someone gave him directions and he followed them. Every time he opened his eyes, the room seemed to be different, the bandages on his body different. He took to doing a quick inventory every time the fog cleared a little. He was mostly sure he wasn't in Germany -- he'd done that trip once, and it didn't feel like that, which was strange.<br/>Things had calmed down some, and he was a bit floaty from what he assumed was drugs. He knew the names of some of the medical staff but struggled to recall them. Then he did recognised someone. John. John Watson, heading over towards him.</p><p>"Evening Colonel," John said pleasantly. "How are you feeling?" He picked up the chart.</p><p>John was a sight for sore eyes -- and Seb was at least experienced enough to not let it go awkward. He had a whole fucking battalion to run, and no much time for a personal life. "Wasted." He blinked, hard, pushed through it. "I need to speak to Lt Col. Hall, and I need the S2. There's been a security breach..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Two shifts blurring together... happened. People didn't schedule their woundings during common hours; he got most of his work at sick call, and at random throughout the day. His nights lasted quietly, at least once the sun went down, unless something went wrong at one of the smaller bases that the Americans so loved to use. They were doing a lot of co-work with the US Marines, and sharing medical facilities were strangely easier to do than shared messing facilities.

So when the call came in that there'd been an IED strike, two casualties, one injury, two vehicle mobility kills, and that the unit had taken small arms fire, it didn't matter to John that he'd been taking his too-strong tea and a sandwich.

It was all rush and move and grabbing kits and barking out sharp orders. The medivacs were on route and he bit into his sandwich almost choking it down as he ran to their hospital building and started a scrub up. He was one of the best trauma surgeons they had on base and IED casualties needed some damn good ones. 

The pilots who flew for them were excellent -- skilled, knew how to provide interim care, and came up on the net with more detailed statuses as they flew. It was a pattern. The three main casualties turned into two, three minutes out from landing when the vehicle's driver passed. He shifted focus to preparing to triage two, and the small arms fire injuries. He'd handle the body later, see what had happened.

His adrenalin was pumping, and he was moving in clear decisive ways. The place was scrubbed down, the anesthetist was ready. The surgical team was as prepped as possible and he could hear the helicopters' loud noise as they landed outside, kicking up dust. A couple of moments of calm where he took the time to center himself and then...

Clatter noise, the scent of metallic blood and his receiving team calling out the situation as they hit the triage area and he stepped into the fray.

Four stretchers, two more hobbling in with help. The noise in those moments was always deafening -- the medics from the helos doing a handover to him, to his nurses. The facts were simple, different than the smell of blood, coppery thick and rich, dirt and metal and cordite, the noises of pain. One dead; one missing most of his leg below his knee; one burn injuries, with shrapnel and potential TBI; one gunshot through and through, hip; one gunshot, side of neck, flesh wound. Two more were coming, additional small shrapnel.

But in reality, it was one stretcher with a mangled corpse, and no hope at first glance that he'd recognize the poor bastard who was on it. His rank was obliterated, the fabric and his vest blown through cleanly. His face was gone, his neck. There were two screamers -- one whose 'oh, god, oh fuck, fuck, god!' had a thick Irish accent; the other was the bullet to the hip, and he mentally marked that one for reassessment to quicker treatment. Possibly it had hit worse than it seemed.

He went to the missing leg first after delegating the more minors to stabilizing triage. He needed to get him in ad with blood before he could tidy the area up. There was nothing much left to save there...Jesus, if he was careful he might just be able to keep the knee joint and that would make a hell of a lot of difference. He looked up from the wound and nearly froze. Fuck...

"Richard?" It was more of a question than he meant. "Richard, we're going to put you under okay, you with me here Captain?"

"Christ, fuck, fucking Christ, I didn't, I never saw it, I thought I'd see it, I saw the last one..." His hair was wet, sweat or water, clinging to his face, eyes wide and huge from pain, pupils blown already, either from the pain or from the first round of morphine. 

"Okay, just breathe it in, I'll take good care of you..." he promised. Richard's eyes were black almost entirely as they put the mask on him. "Get him in, two pints of whole blood, Anderson, start off but don't touch that knee joint.” He gave him a look as he changed his gloves from the examination. He moved over to the hipshot and made the mistake of glancing sideways at the next one in the line and for the first time nearly lost his professional cool.

"Seb..." He was indestructible, he couldn't be here and injured.

It took effort to stick to his triage line, to focus on the hipshot -- he didn't know him, after all, and there was a gut instinct to move on move on now. But John was a better doctor than that, and peeled down the man's pants the extra bit more he needed, started to do a thorough examination. It had come out at a bad angle, near his tail bone, up to down, then, and then tell-tale smell of fecal matter moved the man up the triage chain above Richard, above Seb laying quiet, with his eyes half-open, blinking hard. 

"The Americans are coming over to help," Anderson offered, apparently making the same assessment that John was.

"Great - is Fraser coming with them?" Fraser was a damn good colorectal surgeon. "Lieutenant McCarthy here can be her first in line. Get him prepped up and ready in there waiting for when she scrubs up. We've got a compromised intestine here. Keep an eye on his blood pressure." John said and moved down the line, mentally ticking off how long things were taking. He moved on to Seb changing his gloves again.

"Colonel Moran? Seb, you with me?" he said starting the run through.

He blinked, hard again, and started to try to sit up. "Hmn? God-damned ears are ringing..."

"Stay down Seb, I'm going to shine a light in your eyes, try not to punch me," John said. Head injuries were a bastard. He had the bleeding of one alright, but he was worried about concussion which was always a nightmare. He flicked his penlight to test pupil reaction.

Seb's eyes followed the movement of the light without having to be told, but the pupil response was slow, and the saccade was erratic, too fast. He was leaned up on an elbow, breathing hard. Head injury, shrapnel, burns -- everything John needed, really, to put Colonel Moran in line for stabilization and then the next flight out back to Germany. 

"Not going to punch you."

"That's good." John said. He should send him to Germany but Seb's support system was here. His people, his group, he would freak the hell out and worry himself sick if he wasn't with them. John knew that much about him. He made a mental bargain with himself that if he could look after him here himself, he would. "Let’s take a look at this bullet huh?" he said reaching down. "Hurt anywhere else you are aware of Seb?"

"Side." He started to lift his hand, but John could see most of it. His armor had blocked the most of it, but they'd taken care of that in the helo, and peeled the man down to his burnt, bloodied camos. It looked like he'd been in the passenger side, with the burn running alongside his right.

"Okay..." He gave a thorough look, noticing the arrival of the American medics. Good. "Okay, I'm going to get you hooked up to the good stuff and a drip and get you cleaned up while we work on the others here.”

"'s good. Brook alive?" He leaned back down, moving calmly. Calmer patients were a blessing in a lot of ways, but harder to deal with in others. They could go off a proverbial medical cliff and never utter a peep.

"I'm about to head in and make sure he stays that way," John said scribbling some rapid orders. "Try not to give the Americans an earful...they are here to help."

"Famous last words," the colonel scoffed, and god, that was good to hear, to hear him muttering, "I'm the Americans, and I'm here to help," as he turned his attention to the other gunshot wound victim to find him already swarmed with nurses. It looked clean and tidy and simple.

Maybe he could save Brook's knee.

* * *

He slept, and dozed, and drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness for a while. Every once in a while, someone gave him directions and he followed them. Every time he opened his eyes, the room seemed to be different, the bandages on his body different. He took to doing a quick inventory every time the fog cleared a little. He was mostly sure he wasn't in Germany -- he'd done that trip once, and it didn't feel like that, which was strange.

Things had calmed down some, and he was a bit floaty from what he assumed was drugs. He knew the names of some of the medical staff but struggled to recall them. Then he did recognize someone. John. John Watson, heading over towards him.

"Evening Colonel," John said pleasantly. "How are you feeling?" He picked up the chart.

John was a sight for sore eyes -- and Seb was at least experienced enough to not let it go awkward. He had a whole fucking battalion to run, and not much time for a personal life. "Wasted." He blinked, hard, pushed through it. "I need to speak to Lt Col. Hall, and I need the S2. There's been a security breach..."

"Well I win the bet," John said with a faint smile. "He owes me a tenner. I said your first coherent words would be about work. Look, they’re coming back at...” John checked his watch. "In about fifteen minutes for an update. The base is on high alert. One of the other injured men, Major Cornwell, said something about it being a set up."

"Fifth vehicle in the convoy, *lightest* vehicle in the convoy. We were driving in tracks. There had to be a triggerman..." He rubbed a hand over his eyes, sucked in a deep breath that made his side hurt. It was all starting to seep back to him, the explosion, the fucking dust and dirt, the ringing that he still had low and to the right in both ears. "Fuck. No one knew we were going out but the nationals."

"Easy..." John said sitting next to him. "Yeah, I guess they are working on that. We've been a bit busy in here. How is the pain level?"

Pain level? He closed his eyes for a moment, and it was hard to not feel disoriented in that brief period. "Low. Dull. Feels like a bad sunburn."

"Right. After you've debriefed Lt. Colonel Hall I’ll get you another morphine shot," John promised. "You've got a concussion that we've been monitoring and burns and shrapnel contusions mainly on one side. Cracked ribs and a lot of bruising but it's mainly the burn. I elected to keep you here as I believed you would be more settled here... but if you try to do too much and get an infection you'll be off to Germany as quickly as possible."

He closed his eyes for a moment, nodding. His vision was just a little blurry, just a faint overlay of two images, and it made it hard to keep focused on anything for too long. "What were the casualties? Capt. Brook was in the back. He was going to fix that, that fucking, shit. The supply system we keep inflicting on them."

"Captain Brook was the most serious injury," John replied. He sounded serious. "We operated and ...he's been shipped out to Germany for post-operative care. McCarthy has as well - he is also in Germany. We had two others who were stitches and minor fractures. They are recovering on base and yourself as well."

"And Sergeant Warburg?" He shouldn't have asked, he *knew*, he fucking knew, he'd leaned over and put his fingers on the man's throat but still. He needed to hear it and not just know it in his chest.

"Dead on arrival," John answered him in a low tone. "Medics reported there was no response to resuscitation attempts." 

If what he remembered was correct there had been little left to resuscitate.

"I think I saw his kneecap go through his chin. That or it was a rock." He opened his eyes long enough to focus on John. Well. Captain Watson, Doctor. Damn good doctor, by all accounts though he hadn’t had that much experience of his professional side. Christ. "Has his wife been notified?"

"I believe the Lt. Colonel has dealt with it," John said with a sigh. John looked tired which was not surprising considering what had happened.

They lost people. It was a fact of war, but it was.... mostly infrequent. Infrequent enough that it felt raw every time, and was no less horrifying. "Right. Right." He'd still have to reach out, he couldn't let that duty fall solely on his subordinate's shoulders even if he'd passed the initial word. But what did he say? He died fighting? He died completely unbelievably unaware, and there'd been a look of horror on the man's face when the explosion had gone up that had probably been briefly mirrored on his own. "When was the last time you slept, captain?"

"A long time ago," John answered. "And only you Seb would notice that when you are probably still seeing double." He smiled at him and Seb remembered the last time he'd seen that smile directed at him.

Officer's card game, and he'd been off his usual cut throat game because John had kept giving him *that* smile. John had still left after two more rounds, but Seb had cut his losses after a third hand of failure, to the morale raising jeers of his men before he and John had gone back to his quarters to raise a little morale of their own. "Colonel. You could at least pretend I'm still the battalion commander, laid up or not," Seb drawled. It was a struggle to stay focused, though. "How long does the vision fuckup last?"

"Right now, you're in my care," John said. "So I get to call you what I want. Double vision can persist for a while or go in the next 24 hours. I think it will last until tomorrow...Colonel."

He laughed then, closed his eyes because yeah, he'd deserved that. "How bad was Brook?"

There was a hesitation which told him everything really. "Lower right leg was completely gone from the explosion. We saved the knee joint," John said. "He was conscious and lucid before he went in."

"Jesus." He exhaled shakily, watching John's expression. Richard was a mobile little bastard no matter what he was doing and to imagine him immobilized was almost impossible. "He lost his *leg*? Fuck. Fuck."

John nodded slowly and seriously. He was expected to divulge this level of information but even so he kept the details light at this point." Unfortunately yes. It… well there was nothing there to save. Keeping the knee joint though, gives him much better prosthetic mobility options."

Seb shook his head a little, keeping his eyes closed. "There was always something about Brook. You know, the men who think this is a game and they'll be fine because it isn't real. Still, joining the army was the best thing he could've done for himself." And without his leg, the likelihood that he'd be coming back... was nothing, and they both knew it. "And the rest of the unit?" He'd stopped doing damage assessments after his own bell had gotten rung, and that was poor performance on his part.

"No other major medical admissions aside from those in the attack," John said. "I'll give them a few more days until they start thinking sunburn will get me interested."

"Small miracles." His dead staff sergeant, his out of service supply officer, two, two other sergeants injured, and a captain, he was sure of it. Fuck, that was too much, too much for one unit on the heels of the last month, and then three months before that.

"Very small. Look, Hall will be here in a minute so, have some fluids," John said getting up. "And then I'll give you a shot?"

'"Preferably after Lt Col Hall's been here, thanks." He was going to try his best to be a compliant patient. "And then you'll get some rest, right, captain?"

"Yes sir," John smiled a little flipping a salute. "I'll be able to then. I'll be back in the morning to check you out. It's going to be a little while you are here to be on the safe side."

"That's all right." John had probably breached ten rules to keep him there, when he knew his status should've had him shipped on to Germany. It was good to not have to face that, to be there with his unit still. He had little else aside from his unit. Even his hook-ups were not serious. Richard possibly counted as the longest term on-off fuck buddy he’d had but he’d never considered him as an emotional relationship.

"Good. Here, let me get you something to drink okay?" John said. "You'll probably feel thirsty." He fetched some water. Ice was lacking but it was still pretty cool.

He took the glass, swallowed a couple of quick gulps, and then drank more slowly, until he'd finished it all, breathing out through his nose until he was done. It hadn't even crossed his mind that it was the slightest bit odd until Brook had declared him 'his hero', and confided a similar hatred of water. 

Fuck, he could tell that being out was going to go bad for Brook, and being out was a certainty. "Thanks."

"We'll progress to tea or coffee tomorrow," John promised glancing up and over at the door that was opening. Lt. Colonel Hall was entering. "I'll leave you to it Colonel."

"Thank you, Watson." He glanced sideways at the man as he left, trying to keep his eyes focused and gaze steady enough when his Lt. Col. came in. "Hall, good to see you."

"Colonel Moran, sir," Hall said saluting. "I am glad to see you conscious as predicted."

He returned the salute, and then let his hands settle uselessly in his lap. Small miracle that both hands were still intact. "Yes, I'm quite conscious, Ian. Now, catch me up. Where are we?"

"Base is secure sir.” He looked uneasy. "I gave an order to secure and investigate the nationals with us. I know it might jeopardize our relationship but I felt it necessary."

"No, jeopardize away. Someone's informing on our movements, our routes. We've lost enough." He was drawing the line in the sand, and fuck, he was going to have to report to higher command, and coordinate with the Americans, and ISAF write large -- Americans again. Christ. 

"We are starting questioning. You don't think it was a coincidence then sir," Hall said. He didn't either, Seb could see that.

It took effort to bite back his natural response, and he swallowed his first words. "No, Ian, not a coincidence. One of our allies is betraying us. Not much of an ally."

"This is going to throw up one hell of a shitstorm sir," he replied. "Do you want me to take further action Colonel?"

"Yes. Coordinate appropriately with ISAF, and let the worrying about the shitstorm fall to me. I'll be out of here in a couple of days, and I'll handle it then." He needed to read, re-read all of the intel reports from just before and after the previous two attacks, and then this one. And then it would all make sense, he was sure of it.

"Yes sir. I'll bring the intel in tomorrow if the doc doesn't threaten me with a very thorough medical exam again," he gave a faint smile. He then looked serious again. "I notified command of everything."

"Good. Who's...?” He licked his bottom lip, considering what he was saying. "Staff Sgt Warburg. Who informed his wife?"

"The chaplain and HQ sent Colonel Evans as well sir," Hall said grimacing. "I know you probably wanted to do it yourself but the media had the story and you were in here..."

"He came over back infantry from SAS when I did. I was at his wedding." He'd had a long, long career, and he was done, and he'd had kids late but was planning to settle down. He'd been taking correspondence courses to get some online degree, all the stuff he'd been too fucked up and headstrong to see to when he was younger. 

"I'm sorry sir, he was a good soldier," Lt Colonel Hall said and he meant it, genuinely. "His wife will probably appreciate some contact from you when you are up to it sir."

Or, she wouldn't appreciate it at all, but he could try and at least offer a few words. Words didn't fix anything, words didn't bring the dead back to life. The last rifleman he'd lost had a wife who'd been very angry -- at the Army, at him personally, at everyone. "If you could get the current house number for me, I'd appreciate it."

"I'll bring the details to you sir," Hall said. "McCarthy is unlikely to be back either unfortunately.”

"How bad off is he?" Where John had danced around the specifics, Hall would give him a straight answer.

"Gut shot. In through the hip, shredded part of the lower intestine and colon or something. Temporary bag, they are going to fix it over in Germany." Hall answered gravely.

"And Brook's leg. That's three who aren’t coming back." And the battalion commander with double vision and a blast burn. And some poor bastard would be pulled in to fill their gaps.

"Sir." Hall seemed as downcast as he was. "You're here though sir, that's helping the men."

"I'll be back out there as soon as I'm cleared." Sooner than was sane, as soon as he was sure he could take five steps without finding a wall the hard way. 

"Just knowing you are on base is good news. I'll report any new development ASAP sir," he replied. He glanced around and then back. "I think visiting hours are up. Any last orders sir?"

"You’re an exceptional officer, Hall. You'd run things just fine with or without any last orders. You know your job." And that was enough commander's intent. He'd only have to handle two jobs for a few more days, and then Seb could go head to head with the leadership he needed to, to address the problem of the locals.

"Thank you sir," he saluted again as he got up to leave. 

"Visiting time is over," John said hoving into view. "Time for your meds Colonel."

"I'm amazed you let me hold you off that long, Captain." He shifted, feeling his side tighten painfully as he tried to lean up. It felt like it went right through to the bone.

"What can I say, I'm a pushover," John replied. "Burns are exceptionally painful and I've going to put the drip back on you while you are asleep. Try and remember that when you wake up sir." He was moving carefully and efficiently, putting a needle back into the line, and then injecting the morphine into the drip. "There we go... "

He tracked it, watching John's movements, all careful creative work with medications. There was a certain level of art to medicine. "Thanks."

"Don't fight it. First few days we'll have to keep you dosed." John promised. "You won't be back on duty for a while."

"I can still jockey a desk," Seb countered, watching John's hands linger on the metal bars on the side of his bed. "Thanks."

"We'll talk about light duties in a couple of days," John replied. "Go to sleep sir.”

"Uh-huh." There was more he wanted to say, but it was easier to close his eyes. He had a lot to worry about, and his brain would catch up on the rest of it while he slept.

* * *

Seb was starting to get antsy, John could see that much and he was having to cut back the morphine. If he thought Seb would rest he would let him do light duties but no. That wasn't going to happen.

"Colonel… what are you doing?"

It wasn't that he actually had to ask. The man was doing pushups, slowly. Which John supposed was better than sit ups, though not by much. It made sense why the colonel had traded hospital gown for PT gear. If anyone could make those PT shorts look bearable, it was Colonel Moran. Even looking pale and worn out. 

"Light... Exercise."

"Do I need to remind you that you are burned down one side?" John pointed out. "Do you want to break it open again?" Fucking pushing up with a half-baked side. Sometimes he despaired.

He stopped, flat on the ground, muscles relaxed. "Don't feel it pulling. And I know. I can still feel it."

"Just..." John exhaled. "This is exactly why I'm not allowing you out of here just yet sir," John said firmly. "If I did I’d find you jogging everywhere."

He shifted, casually rolled onto his back, a hand at the edge of where John knew he had heavy bandaging. "Oh, not sure I could manage a jog."

"And yet you are doing pushups...let me take a look at it, see if you've broken open the scabbing," John said and gestured for him to unbutton.

"Uhn, its fine." He pushed himself up slowly, carefully, still on the floor. "I mean it."

"And I'm a doctor and this is what I do for a living when I'm allowed to do so," John said pointedly. "Up, on the bed."

It was a struggle to get upright for Seb, and John could see it, but he let the man get himself up and seated on the edge of the bed. "I've probably done enough exercise for the day." Or the week.

"Uh huh." John started to look then, do an examination. "You rush things you'll end up here flat out with an infection."

Seb peeled up his t-shirt, and exhaled slowly as John pulled at the bandages. "I need to get back out there. I'd be just as shite of a patient back home."

"You'd be worse," John said. "I'm not keeping you here for the fun of it Colonel. I'm trying to get you as fit as possible as soon as possible, but ignoring me will screw all of that up."

"All right, all right. I just never knew it was physically painful to be separated from my c2 systems. It's like fucking withdrawal. My hands itch." He held still for John, though, and he'd been right. No scabs had broken yet.

"Well you were lucky this time," John said. "We need to get the flesh healing underneath, then you can knock the damn things off. I admit you are healing quickly." Healthy body working in his favor.

Unbelievably healthy, if he'd stop trying to do pushups. "No more unauthorized exercise, then. I get it."

"I would say I would allow paperwork brought to your bed but I think that order has been anticipated somehow," John commented wryly.

"We'd have to turn the whole space into a secured area," Seb drawled. "I suppose I'll have to scrounge up a phone and start making phone calls."

"Phone calls you can do," John replied. "I've got you in the most private place there is in here." He seemed in good humor or close enough.

Inappropriate to ask just then if the man had an ulterior motive, so Seb capped that thought, waiting until his bandages were back in place before settling his t-shirt down. "That's because my swearing is a poor influence on the other men."

"I've heard you swear, and so far I've resisted the urge to go off the rails," John said. "I'm going to cut down the morphine dose before you hit any dependency."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not going to end up a morphine addict," he drawled. "Mostly sure."

"It’s sneaky stuff, but we don't have a lot of varieties of painkillers to try here," John said. He smiled slightly. "You'll be feeling floaty soon."

"You just don't want me to start exercising when you're not looking." He leaned back in the bed, shifted as if he were getting comfortable.

"Damn right," John replied. "I'll let you do some soon enough, when the healing has got a good grip on those burns."

"All right, all right. Phone calls later, then." Phone calls that John would do his best to not try and eavesdrop on.

"Probably a good idea otherwise you'll be talking about yellow polka dot kittens or something to a general," John jokes a little watching Seb's eyes droop a little.

"You know how that'd end? Up on the shared drive from someone's handycam." He was still fighting it, but John could tell when fighting turned to losing, the man's eyelids fluttering.

"Damn right. I've got it handy," John promised standing there watching the colonel drift into sleep. He knew without a shadow of a doubt he was going to regret the decision to keep him here for convalescence.

It was extra work for him, and the man was going to be a shite patient. He was going to be constantly tempted to cross the carefully negotiated barriers they had.

But he'd never been one to take the easy way. Why should now be any different?

* * *

Convalescence was a horrible state to be in when one was trying to handle a slow brewing crisis -- and injured and tired was just as bad a state to be in when one was trying to handle a slow brewing crisis. It was just a change of mobility, as he scheduled a meeting with the local police chief to discuss recent... issues.

It was difficult because he knew he was irritable with frustration, and he and John had managed some truly spectacular rows in the Infirmary. He was surprised that he hadn't managed to shout him down, but it seemed on something meaningful, when he needed to be, John was completely bulletproof to all the dirty underhanded tricks he could think of to get him out of the place.

It was frustrating and agonizing. And finally he'd had to leave the medical area because there was no way he was meeting anyone outside of the compound if he was anything other than on his feet and steady. And even that process was being supervised by John, as he pulled his boots on. "It's not as if I'm going to go roll around in the dirt."

"Really?" John said with that innocent looking surprise he sometime cultivated. "I would have thought there was a better than even chance this meeting might end up that way."

He pressed his tongue up against a back molar, pulling his laces tighter; his side hurt a little, but only because he was bent in half like that. "I've got a uniform on. It'll keep the wound site clean."

"I'm not just worried about that," John said. "You're pushing yourself. Again."

He tilted his head, looking at John over his shoulder as he tied the knot on his right boot. "I'm pretty sure it comes with the pips on my rank."

"There are quite a few Colonels who don't push themselves as hard as you do," John pointed out. "You need another pill?"

"No, I'd rather talk to this bastard with a clear head." He inhaled through his nose, let himself feel clean air, and tied the other boot. "After all, next time it could be you out on a MEDCAP."

"I know," John replied soberly. "But you are my responsibility as well so I'm coming with you. Plus if things get a bit..." he gestured vaguely. "We can manufacture a medical interruption."

He rubbed fingers over the side of his face, half disbelief and half... he wasn't sure what. Exhaustion, frustration. Seb knew exactly what he wanted to do -- march in there and put a bullet through the fucker's head. End of problem.

That was probably the real reason he was getting an escort. Just in case he gave into those sorts of urges.

"After you, Colonel."

Which was frustrating, because he was sure that no one could really tell. He wouldn't have gotten that far in the military if it was *obvious* that he wanted to shoot someone in the head to solve a problem. A lot of problems, in fact. "Thanks. I suppose."

"If you manage not to explode, I'll even allow you out for a drink," John offered with a faint smile.

"That has to be a contraindication on some painkiller," Seb countered, straightening up. "How about dinner in the mess hall with the men instead."

"A hard bargain but I'll stand by it," John said. "Dinner in the mess hall it is."

It would be as much to make a good show for morale as it was to see how his *unit* was. Not just the reports he was getting from Hall, but to actually experience it himself and feel the tenor of how they were doing. Unit unity was a careful thing, and leadership had to stay in control for the rest of the unit.

Of course, just because he knew that didn't mean it was easy to do. "All right." No time left to steel himself, then.

They headed over towards his office at a steady pace. "You meeting him here or...?"

"And I'm having him searched for Body bombs," Seb muttered, scanning the grounds. It was hot as blazes, and dry and rocky, and familiar in ways that he missed being pent up in the infirmary.

"He'll be offended," John said lightly. "Possibly very offended if he doesn't want to be understanding to our cause."

"Possibly the ISAF S2 pointed out that his brother in law is on the take with the Taliban, and I'm tired of pretending to give a shit about whether I offend some corrupt LEO." He straightened up more, checking that there was no one who could hear them as they walked.

"So what are you going to do?" John asked mildly and it was curiously calming in a way.

"Don't know." He needed an EA, and he wasn't going to slot John into that part even by accident. He was a doctor and an occasionally personal confident, an occasional personal contact, and he wasn't going to burden him by revealing the man behind the curtain, and his general lack of pre-planning.

"Ah, the traditional "make it up as we go along" style of soldiering," John answered and cleared his throat as they made it to the office. He could almost see him shift into a more formal stance.

It wasn't necessary, but he did appreciate it. "It's a tradition for a reason," Seb declared, moving around to sit behind his desk. "Sit, please. You're not actually on guard duty."

"Mmm, don't tell the others, they'll all want to do this sitting around duty," John said grinning. 

"I thought that was all of supply and half of the support," Seb drawled, settling into his chair with careful movements. Christ, Maintenance, and Brook. He'd tried calling the hospital, but there hadn't been an opportunity to talk to him and see how he was.

"Them too sir," he said. He became serious, glancing towards the door where voices could be heard. They might be quite familiar on their own but John always respected his rank in public.

It was easy to settle into their roles, to let it settle over his shoulders and run down his back as he started to quickly organize his desk. It took a moment to settle in with it, to not pay attention to the noises outside of his office.

He could hear Hall outside, speaking in Pashto, ushering the bastard in to see him. He had to try and slip on his game face but it was harder than usual.

"Colonel Moran, Police Captain Emal Rauf," Hall said as they entered. This should be a fucking interrogation not a polite afternoon tea.

But it was a polite afternoon tea, whether Seb wanted it to be that way or not. He'd start in English, he always did -- but the Captain knew he spoke Pashto, knew he was comfortably fluent. "Captain Rauf, good to see you again."

"It is a pleasure to see you Colonel Moran," the police captain said. "I hope you recovery goes well. Word has been received of your injuries."

Word had been received. Word had been received, he was sure, from a damn spotter, from the moment it had happened. He smiled slightly at the man, reached for his pen at the desk. "Surprised that I'm alive, then?"

The man affected surprise. "Pleased to hear you are alive, by god's will," he said spreading his hands to indicate innocence.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He exhaled, and tilted his head down, eyes closed for a moment. Fuck. "We're having trouble locating the bomb makers."

"Of course whatever I or my men can do to be of assistance Colonel," he said with a faint smile. "It is most regrettable that such a thing should happen."

"Over and over and over," Seb agreed. "It was the damndest thing. It couldn't have been a pressure switch -- we were driving in the other veh's tracks."

"I see?" Emal Rauf looked like butter couldn't melt in his mouth. "Then a different type of attack perhaps. The insurgents are inventive."

"Someone knew I was coming. We were coming. The only people who knew were, well, you." He leaned his elbows on the desk. "So, tell me."

"Are you making an accusation?" he said affronted. "I work with your people. I am not your enemy. I resent the implication."

"No, no. I'm not making an accusation -- but if not you, within your organization, then who?" He was going to give the man an out, if nothing else.

"You insult me and my men!" Emal snapped back fiercely. "We who deal with your ungodly ways for the sake of our country, and you accuse me of being some sort of traitor? How can I be the traitor if it is my country and your opinion?"

"Now did I say traitor anywhere?" Seb asked calmly. "I said leak. Could just be one man talking at dinner and his brother in law overhears?"

"It could be indeed. Or it could more likely be one of YOUR men," the police captain said.

Fuck. Fuck. He exhaled, tapping his pen hard on the tabletop twice. "Yes, because British soldiers have a deep investment in blowing each other up. You know, that's been a while."

"Individuals can be corruptible," Emal argued. "Men desire many things. It was unfortunate but a common truth."

"Indeed it is," Seb countered, tapping his pen again. "Individuals can be corruptible. It's easy enough -- trade a little money, get a little favor, kill the obnoxious Colonel who," and he swapped to Pashto in a quick moment, "is tired of having his men targeted, and you can't pull the *wool* over my eyes!"

"You insult me!" the other man raised his voice in anger. "To suggest such a thing!"

The gall of the man to protest innocence in the face of evidence.

"Do not anger me Colonel, this is our country, not yours!"

"Yes, and thus you have knowledge and *motive* to try to get us *out*!" Seb snapped, still in Pashto, slamming his hand on the table. "I've lost six men, I've lost, fuck, I've had so many injured, and it's the same every god damned time!"

"Then it is unfortunate, but scarcely my fault. If their death were willed by Allah, then who are mortal men to question their time?"

He barely sensed the movement of John beside him.

"Allah is not a bleeding bomb maker!" He lunged at the man, knowing his damn desk would add to the trouble of it, but still.

Much to his annoyance, something, someone seemed to clamp around him holding him back.  
  
"I will bash your fucking skull in, do you understand me?" It was Pashto, and growling, and anger as he got over the desk and the police captain's bravado turned to fear as Seb got him by the shirt collar.

“Stand down Colonel!" John bellowed being dislodged and attempting to grapple him back like that was going to stop him.

"Shit! Hall!"

"You see? You see? He is threatening my life!" Emal protested. "

"Then your innocence should be easy to prove, and that of your men," John snapped out. "Police Captain, where is your honor before Allah? You have shared food and drink with this man, and his men, a sacred bond by your own holy laws! Perhaps god himself uses this man as his tool for your mockery of his laws."

He didn't care, he wanted to turn the man's smug face into the same bloody mess as his men. Only, people kept interfering, bloody annoying doctors thumping at his bad side.

"Hall, get this bastard out of here!" Watson was yelling even as Emal was trying to hit back.

There was no planet where that made sense, where it was half a rational suggestion. It was button pushing, and he knew it, he *knew* it, but he still twisted, reaching for the man, getting a knee up on his desk, halfway to getting at the police captain.

"Cover your own incompetence by blaming me! My people will know you save yourself by casting blame when you are responsible for the deaths of your people!" Emal yelled at him and he saw red.

Not by a fucking longshot. "No more supplies, no more weapons, no fucking *payroll* until we've reviewed you, and all of your men. Do you understand that? Drag your god damned feet, and I can back the local militia instead of your force. Or we can get this done before anyone even notices it’s happening." It was an absurd conversation to have with John still plastered to his back, his own face red, heart ramping up like he wanted to do a lot more than punch the man.

There is no evidence for this. My brother-in-law has sworn to me he is not involved with the Taliban. I will swear that myself!" the police chief countered.

"Three days later, another convoy only *his* people knew about was hit, so I wouldn't call it a useful swearing. I've checked the Intel reports, Emal. Lots of travel outside of the city for you..." He straightened up, slowly, trying to subtly dislodge the arm John had slung over his shoulder, across his chest.

"I see, I see, so I was right, you are accusing me of the same standards as your worthless western honor, after the risks I've taken, the blood I've shed...”

"You've never been in my Infirmary as a patient," John interrupted him. "You are trying the Colonel's patience. Is that what you want to do? I don' think he wants to pat you on the head."

John wasn't shifting but Emal had gone into full rant.

"Who is this one to be teaching me the ways of my own culture? By what right?!" The incensed Police captain yelled back at them.

"The same person who saved the life of your nephew, and to whom you swore undying gratitude only two months ago," John pointed out still clamped around him with surprising tenacity.

"Captain, if you don't get off of me," he growled, looking behind him, twisting to get John to un-latch himself and throw him.

"You'll have to punch me the same way you are going to punch him," John hissed in his ear. "If anyone is punching anyone, it would be best if he hit us, not the other way around...sir."

He couldn't stop himself; he lunged again at the smug police captain protesting fake righteous indignation and Watson was immediately there in the way as he went to swing. He got one good blow in to Seb's stomach, and Seb returned a fist to his jaw without hesitating. And he wished, briefly, that everything that followed had gone in slow motion because then he might've had a fucking chance in hell to work out what happened. Hall was back in the office, pulling Emal back, and Watson hit his burned side again, hard enough to make him finally fall back, breaking them apart.

He was around his front then, getting him them apart and it was probably a ridiculous sight. John was so much shorter than he was, it must be ludicrous to see him restraining him. Hall dragged away the screaming furious man, and John grimaced.

"Jesus fucking Christ sir, just...back down," John urged as he released him and closed the door between him and the subject of his wrath.

"I'm backing down. I'm, fuck. Fuck. He did it, I know he did it, it's all in the reports, Jesus..."

"Yeah, I know but, taking him apart will end up with you with a dishonorable discharge and me with a shit load of work trying to save him," John said also breathing hard. "Shit, I'm sorry for hitting you there, couldn't seem to get through to you."

"He wanted me *dead*." And he'd almost got it. That he'd lost men while being targeted, that he'd lost *friends*, good soldiers... It wasn't a thought he handled well, handled easily -- could do more than edge up close to and flinch back from because fuck, he wasn't worth that. He was just a god-damned piece of rank, and his men were worth so much *more*.

"But he didn't get that, and if you play this right, you not only get him but all the fucking bastards behind him," John said with complete serious intensity. "Think of that... think you are going to take the whole goddamn lot of them out." 

He was still shaking a little as he rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to focus. It shouldn't have been that hard to focus, except that it had since the explosion. He probably should've been invalided out for that alone, and if John’s hadn’t been there it was entirely possible he would have started hitting the Police Captain and not been able to stop "Right. Right. Do they teach you how to deal with angry officers in med school, Captain?"

"I failed that bit," John said in a dead pan way. "Had to use my dealing with angry enlisted soldier training instead."

"They should cross-rate that course, I think it's effective on officers as well." He ran a hand back through his hair. "Fuck. Well, since I'm here I might as well check my email."

"You do that and then I'm going to have to check your side where I hit you." John said. "You want a coffee or something?"

"If you're getting some from the coffee mess, please." He wasn't moving yet, but John was. It was one of those moments where he was glad that while he ran the Battalion, he didn't actually have John in his chain of command. It made everything... easier.

"I'll get you some. No throwing away your career while I'm out," he said with a faint smile and headed out the door

It took him a moment to get up and into the system, focused on email just long enough to delete the useless ones once he was logged in, seeing what he'd have to come back to when he had more time. There was no point in making John wait for him to finish, on wasting any more of this time.

It was easy to get lost in work and it was almost as if he had been sucked in and lost some time because John was back almost before he knew it.

He was pretty sure he wasn't completely caught up, but he was caught up enough that he started to shut down. "You'll be glad to get back to the infirmary, I suppose."

"Well it was a bit more exciting an afternoon than usual," John said handing him a cup. "Better than dealing with the latest stomach bug."

He wrapped his fingers around the mug John held out for him, just holding it for a moment. "Sure?"

"Mm, pretty much. You didn't hit me with much omph," John joked, although he still looked a bit worried.

Why he looked worried, Seb wasn't sure. "What? I'm fine." Just furious, that the man had provoked him, that he felt as much of a fool as he had to have looked in that moment.

"Yeah well I did hit you," John pointed out. "You ready to come back to your home away from home?"

He checked that he was logged out, and stood up, still holding the cup of coffee. "I suppose this counts for a good try at getting back to work." There was still plenty to deal with, and trying to reassure Hall that he wasn't unhinged.

"A fair effort," John acknowledged. "I want to document any punch bruising on your torso too."

If he'd been fighting John tooth and claw the entire time before, he was compliant on the way back. Sipping his coffee and trying to seem as composed as he could manage. 

It was harder than he thought possible. He had a craving almost to go and take payment in blood out of Emal Rauf and damn the cost. Immediately. To find where-ever Hall had dragged the man off to, and to finish what he'd started. He had intimate plans for taking care of him, and they started with choking the shit out of him.

Unfortunately John's presence meant that was a non-starter. He half resented him for that, for making him restrain himself. He still was compliant while John documented his 'injuries', though Seb was reluctant to call them any such thing. It was a fight unfinished, and there was no way to *finish* it now -- now Hall wouldn't let Rauf within a mile radius of him.

"You're restless," John murmured as he finished up. "The good news is you will be released to light duties tomorrow."

"Oh good." He shrugged his shirt back on, taking his time buttoning back up. His fingers were still inordinately slow. He needed to hit their sad range, make sure the blast hadn't rattled loose anything important.

"Oh good?" John sounded surprised. "Is that it after however long needling me every other minute about getting out of here?"

He scrubbed his hand over his face again, like it would help at all. "Yeah. It's hard to be enthusiastic when one can fully envision the bureaucratic nightmare that it's going to take to get this settled."

"I'd say it's not going to be but I'd be lying," John replied. "There, good as new… nearly."

He snorted, catching John's eyes before the man turned away to tidy up his supplies, peeling off his gloves. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it."

"Well, I suppose I could have delegated putting on a dressing..." John joked lightly obviously deliberately missing the point.

"First rate service that I get at this infirmary." He got his shirt buttoned, still watching John. A lot of people would've lorded it over him, but not John. Thank god, not John.

"We aim to impress," John replied. "I'll be willing to bet Hall will be along shortly... to uh... compare notes."

"I hope he's using me as an example of how not to be an officer," Seb drawled. "Christ, that was a mess."

"Nearly. It can be explained away. He made provocative statements," John answered sitting down a moment.

"And I didn't keep my cool," Seb countered, looking down at his knees. "It wasn't my best moment."

"You didn't kill him either and that took superhuman restraint," John replied.

"I'm supposed to be able to comport myself better than that." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Right. My head's fucking killing me. I give up for the day."

"Sometimes you are allowed to not be the Colonel you know that," John said seriously. "Look, just. Take it easy. You can out think them, I know that. Let Hall do some work for a change."

"Suppose I have to." Light duties were light duties, and even if he stretched it a bit, no one else was going to let him jump wildly into the fray.

"Doctors orders," John said smiling. "How's the pain relief?"

"Good. A little pain's never bothered me." It hurt sometimes, full out burned other times, and he just bore through it, even when it was a distraction.

"I'm the first to tell guys to man up, but unnecessary pain doesn't help anyone," John said. "Don't tough it out unnecessarily."

He canted a look in John's direction, trying to not smile too widely. "I have a high pain tolerance. Believe me, I'll let you know if it's not covering it."

"You better," John instructed firmly. "Sometimes soldiers take the whole pain thing a bit competitively."

If only he knew how close to the mark that could be sometimes.

* * *

Life had moved on from there.

It disappointed John, in a way, because he'd enjoyed sparring with Sebastian on a daily basis, but it was also heartening that the man had moved on so quickly, gotten well enough to return to life and light duties so quickly. If he'd gone on to Germany, at the least he would've had his tour cut short. 

It meant though he was back to his routine of shifts and maybe the odd drink and then back to his billet. It was a bit monotonous and everything was clamped down upon as they went through the Afghan nationals with a fine tooth comb.

He didn't expect the invitation from Col. Moran to come by his conex for a game of cards. If he was thinking of more than a game of cards, it was a pretty good cover, as the Colonel was a semi notorious gambler and card player -- one with good humor, but there was that suggestion of someone who was too invested in it as well.

On the other hand if he was just looking for a game, then that would be better than pretty much crashing out, or reading Harry's latest email angst fest.

Just in case though, he had a shower and tidied himself up in case the Colonel was in the mood.

After all, he didn't have to smell of sweat and dirt and sand *all* the time – just most of it. And there were better reasons to reek than general boring hot environment and moving around. He was pretty sure he still smelled of soap when he reached the Colonel's conex and rapped on the metal door.

"Watson, good, hold on -- got the lock engaged..."

John grinned to himself, taking that as a sign that maybe this wasn't a full on poker night. By the time the door opened he was anticipating seeing Seb more than perhaps he should because the odds were going in his favor.

The fact that the living quarters beyond the door were well lit and notably empty of other people finished John's sense of guessing what the theme of the night was. So, too, was the fact that Seb was in his PT gear, and looked comfortably ruffled and at ease. "Good to see you, John. I didn't buck any other plans you had, did I?"

"Like I get chance to have other plans," John said with a smile. "You doing okay?" He couldn't help it, he just had to check out of habit.

“Yeah, back to normal,” Seb replied gesturing for him to come in and notably locking the door behind him again. “Sounds like you’ve been busy?”

"Yeah, I start getting soldiers in with what they think are terminal illnesses when we bottleneck like this.” John shrugged. "Stress levels go up, nowhere to go so it manifests in weird physical symptoms."

"I think I've solved it. We have permission to move out again starting tomorrow." Seb pushed a hand back through his hair, gesturing for John to take a seat. All of the furniture was narrow, Spartan, familiar, but well worn. John half suspected officering passed things down like that, that Sebastian had inherited it from the previous Colonel stationed there, and that he'd pass it on to the next. 

"That's good," John said smiling genuinely. "So… Cards huh?" It wasn't a subtle question but he was far too keyed up to settle properly.

"Well, I thought I'd give you a comfortable out," Seb drawled, reaching into a tidy locker to pull out what looked like a quality bottle of Vodka. "Just because I've been out forever doesn't mean you are."

"I'm...discreet about it because soldiers get a little twitchy about it when I have them stripping naked. Technically I'm bi, but..." John shrugged as he sat down. "You know what, seems a bit ridiculous after Germany." He paused a moment thinking on that rather wild episode at a sex club with Seb and Brook. "Has Brook answered any of your emails?"

"Oh yeah. We've been chatting a bit -- he says he's going to play Long John Silver in a panto." Seb delivered it in a dry tone, as he gathered together two glasses and poured a hearty measure into both.

"Jesus," John looked at him. "He likes his humor black. He hasn't answered me yet." Secretly he was starting to wonder if Brook somehow blamed him for not saving his leg. Not that it was there to save.

But still, injury was funny like that. "I'm not surprised. He's not the most personable of shits on a good day. I've been trying to get him some kind of post-discharge support in place before he's actually discharged." Seb pushed a glass over to John, and slouched into the chair on the other side of the table.

He took a sip and raised his eyebrows. "Mmm. Sounds like a good idea. Brook at a loose end would be..." The word dangerous popped into his mind but he substituted "... hazardous to himself."

"Aren't most of us?" He took a small sip as well, and then lightly clinked his glass against John's. "Cheers. What would you do if you were in his position?"

"No fucking idea," John replied. "Guess I'd end up working in a hospital or as a GP." He raised his glass at Seb, admiring the way he looked. Lean and muscular, clear bright eyes... Mmm. Seb was definitely his type and he knew sex was amazing with him already. But it was a bit different having a quickie than being asked over.

"I could imagine you in a hospital," Seb mused. Beneath the table, he stretched his long legs out, and that was comfortable. Just settling, relaxing. No one was going to barge in, and it was like a quiet oasis in a storm.

"What about you? If you weren't a Colonel?" John asked feeling the burn of alcohol from the vodka. Bloody amazing vodka.

"Hell if I know. I joined up while in university, signed my life away before I finished school. Other than a brief stint in a fish and chips shop, I've never done anything but the army." His tone was wry, self-deprecating, and John wasn't entirely sure if that was true or not. "Dunno. Suspect I'd hare off into the wilderness somewhere."

"And do what? Park ranger or something. Not sure they have them in a big way in Britain," John smiled back. 

Seb blinked for a moment, and then smirked widely as he held his glass in both hands. "Bugger, park ranger didn't even cross my mind. I was thinking big game hunter. I'm glad you de-fancied that down to something much more realistic and British. What've we got, the Peak? 'Mind the sheep. They get woolly at you.' "

"You could get a vicious bite off of one of the bastards," John said. "They're reintroducing wolves in Scotland... but I doubt they would appreciate you shooting them."

"Mmmm, yeah, that's unlikely. I'd probably have to train one to be a man eater before anyone'd let me do that. No, it'll just be the wolves against the sheep." He took another swig. "I could see you in that medical drama. They always need a level headed one."

"What, Casualty?" John smiled a little. "Some of my mates would kill themselves laughing with you calling me level headed. I was the "risk-taker"...medically speaking that is."

John watched Seb twitch an eyebrow at him. "Prove it."

"What prove that I'm a bad-ass medic?" John looked at him amused. "How do I do that? Tell you stories like...wow, you never guess what, once I did an emergency tracheotomy in three seconds from seeing the patient, or I did an emergency bowel resection on the fly." He shrugged a little. "That's not going to mean a whole lot. Or do you just mean proving I'm a risk taker?"

"I'm pretty sure you're already a risk taker. After all, you accepted an offer to play cards with me." The edge of his mouth curled, a comfortable looking smile. "But you need to really learn how to take the piss with a story, John. Say you stuck a tube in a man's throat *seconds* after seeing him because he was choking on something horrible. And then embellish. Over the years it can become a pen cap. Next thing you know, you'll be a general. Damndest thing."

"And this is why I'll never succeed in the military," John replied sprawling out himself as the vodka warmed him through. “It’s bloody difficult to do that with a pen lid you know. I'm pretty good at elaborating ridiculous injuries. The infantry guy who managed to swallow a grenade pin. I was more worried about what he'd done with the grenade."

"That one there gives me shivers, and makes my soul hurt for my branch." Seb took another sip of Vodka, and John felt his leg brush against Seb's beneath the table. Or, the other way around.

"You should know, they show constant imagination in the way of doing themselves an injury," John said smiling a little. "If they showed as much imagination in the field we'd have the whole place wrapped up by now and parceled off." He drank a little more leaning into the motion, sending signals he was receptive.

"Mischief is the shittiest cause of death I ever have to notify a family of. Yeah, your boy died in war. When he was horsing around with a buddy and someone dropped an engine bloc on him." Seb rolled his eyes, and took another sip before he set his glass down. 

John smiled a little, feeling a curl of anticipation as he took another swig of the vodka. "So..." Seb looked like a fantasy made to life for him. Tough, masculine but with a gleam in his eye John definitely wanted to explore.

"So, I take it you're not disappointed by the lack of a card game." Back on topic then, though John could understand why the care that Seb was taking.

"Well, much as I like a good hand of cards, I'm thinking back to Germany when we could have cut to the chase if we'd just come clean at the start." John replied

"We could cut to the chase now," Seb offered, slightly more intense sounding as he leaned up a little in his chair.

"Mmm sounds like a great idea," John answered leaning forward to show he was serious. "You know, I kind of thought you would be more... forward."

"Well, if I accidentally burn this bridge, I'm going to have to be a lot more careful on convoys," Seb joked, standing up. The liquid courage stayed on the table between them.

"I can promise you, that I am a professional in that respect." John looked at Seb. "Do you always prepare for the worst before you've even started out?" He stood as well.

"I blame SAS training." He was still smiling, still joking, but John tucked that away as an interesting thread, seconds before Seb slid a hand along his waistline, fingers lingering above his camo trousers. 

"What are you waiting for?" John murmured, genuinely curious. "It's not like we haven't before." Although Richard had been there.

"I hate fucking up a good thing." He declared it and then leaned in to kiss John, a hard press of lips against his own.

That was more like it. John responded eagerly and damn, it had been too long because he had intended a measured response but it turned very swiftly into something more insistent and demanding.

He really meant to stay controlled, calm about it, but then Seb slid his hands down to cup John's arsecheeks, and clutched, backing him up against a wall of that conex.

There were wearing altogether too many clothes, and fuck, that was hot, Seb's muscles rock hard and inflexible even though he just had to push back so he could feel that strength even while kissing hard, nearly biting down as he wandered down Seb's neck.

"Uhn, Christ, remind me why I was slow to get back to this again?" Seb edged his fingers up under John's shirt, pressing against his back.

"Well you've been injured and…" He thought there was a thing going on between him and Brook. "…and all the usual shit gets in the way."

"Poor reasons." He shifted in closer, mouth lingering against John's jaw between firm pressure and more kisses. "Too many clothes."

"Yes, time to get them off," he started trying to feel his way around the belt, the shirt, getting distracted by skin as he was doing so. He was more than half hard already and they had barely got going.

Seb pulled back, and pulled his t-shirt up over his head -- it was a functional move, yes, but for one moment all John could see was scarred muscled torso stretched beautifully, a few patchy bandages still in place, and then Seb dropped it to the side.

His hands were immediately running over those abs and lines. He couldn't help himself. He'd managed to shut down his natural arousal when he was working on Seb but it had been repressed not non-existent. 

It was hard to not feel attracted to Seb, given that he was smiling easily, that he was pulling at the closures of John's uniform blouse. "Heh, I'm almost ticklish there..."

"Oh really?" John asked, ignoring the fact that he was the one pinned against the wall and tickling lightly on that spot.

He could feel the muscles shiver, and Seb ducked his head down, sucking on John's earlobe as he hummed a response. "Oh yeah. Really."

He chuckled a little at that. "You seem to like it," he murmured and fuck, that was like lightning in his blood.

Seb chuckled again, hands sliding down to start pushing John's trousers down past his hipbones. It wasn't that John was skinny, but he was solid, and his uniform was just maneuverable enough that it seemed ridiculously easy for Seb to do.

He busied himself trying to get Seb's pants off and dragged them down so he could rub over his cock. All of a sudden it was back to urgency again.

John was all right with urgency, even if it meant he was shoved up against the wall, the thin insulation. "Bugger, we should move this to the bed..."

"And here I was thinking you were going to fuck me against the wall," John said mouthing the cord of muscles on Seb's neck.

"Shrapnel injuries and a lingering balance problem," Seb reminded lightly, voice shifting at the edges with a shivery sigh. "Christ."

"Mm. You are knotted up," John said liking the slight shake in Seb's normally controlled voice. Desire and need and yeah, he wanted this to be more than quick fuck. "Bedroom then."

"That should get quote marks." But he still had a bit of a space blocked off, a plywood door separating out a metal framed bed that was narrow at best when Seb pulled John towards it.

John happily tumbled on to it tangling himself up with Seb, kneading at some of the muscles as he kissed the other man. He was still faintly stunned Seb had picked him.

There was just no accounting for taste, John supposed. It was a small space to tangle up in, but it was warmer inside the bedroom bit than the rest of the conex, lit with one lamp in the corner that gave it a homey feel. So did the way Seb pulled at John's last remaining clothes.

Skin to skin felt amazing. He nuzzled in enthusiastically driven to do more. "You taste amazing,” he murmured half to himself.

"Old spice and alcohol wipes. I'll make a note of it." Seb laughed, shifting to squirm out of his trousers at the same time he had a hand down John's pants.

"Time to get naked," John declared getting his hands finally on his trousers and pulling them down.

There was a moment of struggling out of boots, and John was sure he had one sock half stuck to his foot until he shook it off. "Gorgeous."

John chuckled wryly at that as he was finally naked and nothing between them. "You have a strange idea of gorgeous."

Seb's smile was easy as he ran arms down John's muscled shoulders. "You keep saying that. It's like horses. The ones everyone goes for are awful delicate. Ankles that shouldn't exist. Now a good draught horse on the other hand..." He leaned in to kiss John on the collarbone.

"That's me, short, stocky and solid," John said relishing that. "Mm. When you've healed up, I'm going to spend an evening getting all these knots out of you...”

"I'm not sure if that's a promise or a threat." Seb shifted a leg, rubbing his hips up against John's for a moment, cock to cock for too brief a moment.

"Oh fuck, that's...” John thrust against him. "Damn Seb, come on."

“Mmhm, what, you're that eager?" He repeated the gesture, sliding his hands down to cup John's arsecheeks.

"It's been a while since...uh Germany," John murmured. Seb's hands were strong and yeah, he liked that feel definitely.

"All the more reason to take our time." After all, it was hard to guess when another quiet night would present itself -- they were few and far between for John, and he could guess they were the same for Seb. 

One finger stroked exploring down his asscheek. He reached down to encouragingly fondle Seb's cock. It would be a novelty to have a long slow fuck. "Mm, sounds good." 

He started wondering if that was Seb's reference too. They were just rolling with it at the moment.

It all felt good, skin on skin on top of Seb's mattress and sheets, lazy sucking kisses left on places below the collar line.

They had to be careful even if it was an open secret, it didn't do to draw too much attention to themselves. He moved his hand slowly and languidly.

Seb groaned, sprawling beneath John for a moment, legs spread as a he halfheartedly thrust up against John's hand. "Christ." The drag of fingertip against his hole got a little firmer, almost retaliatory.

That encouraged John to up the ante a little, and work the hand job to get Seb to respond in kind. "Any time you're ready," he said hopefully.

"I'm always ready. Are *you* ready?" He pressed the finger in a little more firmly, and then moved his free hand. "Shit, lube, hold on..."

"I've been fucking ready for *months*" John said with genuine intensity. He'd just thought that Seb was obviously involved with someone else, most likely Brook. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known after Germany that he was interested.

Except, apparently not. Seb chuckled, and fished his free hand down along the side of the bed, coming back with a tube of KY and a condom wrapped in foil. "I feel like a bloody scout."

"Be prepared," John quipped back. "Maybe I should have prepped up optimistically."

"That always feels weird. Standing there with a foot on the toilet going is this hopeful, or really fucking desperate?" He leaned up then, started to kiss John with a little more vigor.

"Yeah pretty much," John murmured and then got back into the kissing and stroking, forgetting to speak for a while as it became all about the warmth and heat between them

He let himself relax into it, to fall into the motions of kissing, and the slicker pressure of two fingers pressing into him slow and careful still. Seb wrapped his other arm around John's shoulders, keeping him close.

He couldn't help making a noise when they slipped inside of him. "Fuck..." he groaned and pushed back onto the fingers as best he could.

He felt the scrape of Seb's teeth against his lip, another easy noise of pleasure. "Good?"

"God yeah, fuck..." he was having sense memories of back in Germany and that made him rock hard.

Still, being in a small space with Seb was good, close, comfortable, and then he twisted them both around on the narrow bed, pinning John down against the mattress with two fingers up his arse.

He liked the strength of him and the feel of muscles moving under skin. He moved and groaned trying to rub against what he couldn't reach with his hands.

He liked the feel of it when Seb hitched his hips up, settled his thighs on his own legs, moved in close enough that John had a pretty good view and feel of muscled torso and the other man's eagerly jutting cock.

"Mmm, for me? You give me the nicest things," John said eyeing him with new appreciation. Seb was a wet dream. He had the raw physicality that a lot of models lacked and like this, with shadows picking out muscles he wanted nothing more than to preserve the image forever.

"It's completely altruistic, too," Seb deadpanned, sliding his free hand over John's thigh firmly as he pulled the two fingers out of John's arse.

"I've heard that about you," John answered feeling a curious sense of relaxation and anticipation. He'd never been able to understand why but his gut reaction of being able to trust Seb seemed unshakable.

It was impossible to explain, but he simply felt at ease as Seb's mouth quirked, and he took his time fumbling open the condom wrapper.

"You're making me wait on purpose aren't you?" John said watching him.

"Leisure time. I like to linger." He started to slide it onto himself one handed. Seb's other hand petted up over John's stomach, stopped for a moment to stroke his dick.

He felt like he could purr, though it would be more of a growl if he actually did it. But it would sound ridiculous so he restrained himself. "Mmm, lingering...is good."

He liked that he could enjoy Seb, that he could look at him and feel him. A lot of sex with straight guys was quick, about getting off, and no time to enjoy. Seb squeezed John's thigh again once he had the condom on. "Comfortable?"

"I'd be even more comfortable with you in my ass," he replied, trying to touch Seb.

It wasn't as if Seb was avoiding him -- he shifted in closer, moving his hips, positioning their legs. Seb's pace was slow, almost stretching, hitching one of John's legs carefully so he could put an ankle on his shoulder 

"Fuck, just as well I am still flexible," John said shifting to get into position. He grinned, still half unable to believe things were going so well.

Not that he expected it to go any other way. He liked Seb, he knew him well enough to know that things weren't going to go sharply south, and they'd already bug-tested, so to speak, their sexual compatibility. It was just a matter of getting Seb to stop teasing and *move*, while he pressed the head of his cock against John's asshole. "You'd have to try hard to convince me you've ever been not flexible...."

"Well I guess after Germany that's a bit of a moot point." He still couldn't quite believe it had happened. "Mm, yeah... that's... I am used to this sort of thing."

Although Seb's cock was surprisingly as big as he remembered. Often the recollection was gilded with wishful thinking but not this time.

This time, it was real and not wishful recollection at all, solid and pushing into him slowly, as if he might feel it less by going slow. "Still, if it's been a while..."

"Like you said, I'm pretty flexible," John said huffing out. "And you're pretty big." But amazing -- he'd missed this. Hand jobs, blowjobs were the main staple in his sexual diet. Actually getting fucked by someone who knew what to do with it? Amazing. Seb started into him with short, faint, shallow thrusts, slow and unyielding.

He made faint incoherent grunts as he shifted and adjusted himself. He had to flex his back up and down to get the right amount of give. Fuck, it felt incredible and he just went with the motion, finding the rhythm by instinct and going with it. Seb kept up that slow thrusting into him, steady quick back and forth motions that had to take more motion control than John thought he had personally.

Eventually he had to say, in among trying to breathe. "I'm loosened up now...you can let go if...you want...” He could feel a need there that Seb didn't seem to let go of. Maybe he did like control a lot, or maybe he was scared of being out of control.

He'd felt that before, in the middle of the orgy, that very intense control and trying to get it to break had been hard. "Mmhm, getting there." He started to take longer strokes, sliding his hands almost reverently along John's flank.

Maybe they just hadn't found the way to do it. John found that he had an itch to try and discover that particular button, but now was probably not the time to push, because his thoughts were disrupted by the stead y measured thrusting in and out of his ass.

He ran his hands over Seb's arms, pulled him in closer, and he went with it, leaned down into John even if it made it a little harder to breath, made muscles stretch tight at the backs of his legs.

He wanted to grip him, he wanted hold onto him as he fucked him. "Jesus, fuck Seb.”

"You feel so good..." He gave a hard snap of his hips then, counterpoint to the slow steady thrusts. Slow was starting to ebb away, too, when he wrapped a hand around John's cock between them.

He was probably gripping him hard enough to leave marks and he leaned up to try and get his mouth on any part of Seb he could reach or taste no matter how awkward the angle.

It was awkward, yeah, in a delicious way. He mouthed the line of Seb's neck, sucking on his adam's apple and getting a soft moan beneath the quiet groans.

He wanted to suck hard, but that would leave visible marks and that was a definite no-no. "Oh god, yeah..." he mumbled against skin, trying to kiss lips.

It was touch and go, kissing Seb when John was halfway bent in half himself, but he could feel everything, feel his balls tightening with every thrust. "Mine."

Jesus yeah, he liked the possessive feel of that. It was usually him getting inappropriately attached in these liaisons. "Fuck yeah... come on Seb."

It was hard to get him to feel reckless, to get him to let loose, but he kept thrusting, harder, faster, until it did start to lose some of that controlled edge, it started to feel a little wilder. That was good, he could let go with his reactions and just go with it. Just ride it out with him, until the world disappeared in the powerful thrusting jolts of Seb fucking him and he came uncontrollably.

It wasn't even that the stroking of his dick got him off, just the pounding. Seb slowed, laughing a little, breathing hard as he kept thrusting more slowly, leaning in to kiss John's shoulder while he eased John's leg down. "Christ."

He was panting himself, trying to get words out, his muscles gone limp and lax on him. "Holy fuck that was worth waiting for," he managed.

"Let's not wait so long next time," Sebastian decided. He sprawled out beside John -- as much as anyone could sprawl on a bed the size of a matchbox -- still catching his breath.

"Couple of hours at least," John quipped holding on to Seb tight. He grinned, feeling the pleasing aching feeling inside. "Thought you were never going to let go."

Seb shifted, twisted, and slid a knee under John's thigh to garner them a little more combined space. "Sorry. It takes a bit of time to relax."

John chuckled. "I was just messing with you. Did have a few thoughts that perhaps your own personal preferences were being put to one side for my benefit...which believe me, it was my benefit."

He could feel the muscles of Seb's arm flex against him. "Good. Glad it... yeah." Yeah. Seb pulled at a blanket, just for the moment. John would have to leave before morning, but they could relax for a bit.

"We'll talk about that," John said. "For next time. Fair enough you get what you want after you've given me a fucking magnificent time." He smiled again, buzzing with endorphins.

"You give my sense of altruism too much credit, John." He felt Seb press his mouth against John's jaw, settling in comfortably. Leisurely, that. That there felt very good. Maybe they would manage a bit of sleep together before he had to slip out under the cover of darkness.

He secretly enjoyed the post sex haze almost as much as the actual thing, partly because he didn't get it that often. He didn't want this to be a one-time thing, that much he was sure of - he wouldn't have gone back after Germany if he did. He had no idea what Seb wanted but right now he seemed to not want to kick him out of bed so that was a major plus. And if that was as far as it went, he could deal with that. Wasn't like it hadn't happened before.

* * *

Sometimes Seb smoked tucked away in a spot out of general view. Generally more when he was stressed but other times when he wanted to get a more unofficial view of what was going on. Right now it was a combination of both after a very unsatisfying meeting. It sure as hell beat sitting in his office waiting for someone to sidle up to the door. This way if someone wanted to talk to him all they had to do was light up and happen to use this spot.

This time it was Sergeant Harris, but he didn't have the look of someone desperate to talk. Maybe he was actually smoking.

Seb went the quiet route – after all, not everyone was comfortable hunting down the colonel. There was a chain of command for a reason, but he liked those who jumped the chain when it was necessary, or who just wanted to discuss the combat arts with someone who quite clearly was too interested in it.

"Afternoon sir," Harris said. "Good to see you out here again. Doc's not shoving needles in you anymore?"

"No, I finally got my clean bill of health. Glad to stay downrange for it, actually." He took a slow drag off of his cigarette, because that was the best part of being free of the infirmary so far -- smoking. Smoking and having plenty of time to be pissed off about the local nationals.

"Yeah." There was a pause. "You heard from Brook? Samuels said he got an email from him… weirded him the fuck out."

"What'd it say?" He pitched his voice curiously, rather than answer if he'd heard from Brook at all. "I was trying to get him into a physical rehab program, one of those new ones..."

"Some shit about him planning a new career as a pirate," Harris said. "Only Samuels said it sounded off, like, really fucking off, like he was off his head or something."

Brook hadn't been that stable to start with so he could well imagine that.

"As a pirate? Pirating software, or... Yo ho, seven seas?" He tapped a bit of ash onto the ground, careful with his aim. 

"Long John Silver sort of shit, peg leg and all," Harris said. "Maybe it was a joke."

"Eh." Seb blew his smoke up, and shook his head. "I'll just generally get in touch with him, then, see how he's doing." He had Brook email address, which was also his Skype account. Either'd do, and it didn't sit well with him that the man wasn't healing up well.

"I told Samuels I'd pass it on," he said with a shrug. "He's still one of us even if he's been discharged."

"He is. Wasn't his fault he was in that convoy." Just Seb's, because for a trip like that, KLEs, he liked to bring some brain power, supply, engineering, medical. Talk and help, and fuck if half the locals seemed to want to let him.

"Nah. I mean he could be a bit weird, but he was a fucking good quartermaster," Harris said and glanced at his watch. "Shit, better see if Jones and Hart have finished up."

"I appreciate the heads up." He watched Harris suck hard on his cigarette, and then stomp it out into the sand before leaving. Sebastian lingered.

He had a bit of a pause and then he heard footsteps round the corner.

"You carry on loitering on corners and someone will try and pick you up," John said handing him a coffee. "Thought I saw you out here wrecking your lungs."

"Mmm, yeah. Is the coffee a bribe to get me to not smoke? If you'd been in that meeting, you'd be out here with me smoking." He curled his free hand around the mug, fingers slid into the handle.

"Bad one huh?" John asked. "What bloody stupid bit of genius have they come up with this time?"

"Adjustments to the ROE, pandering bullshit, pushback on my going to meet a *real* key leader. No one wants to deal with the police Captain appropriately. Investigations have gotten bored with it." He inhaled again, and exhaled over the coffee mug before he took a sip. It was still nicely warm.

"They haven't got him out yet?" John frowned. "There's more than enough evidence for that."

"He has allies. The evidence is apparently not enough." Sebastian lifted his eyebrows at John. "I've been warned to leave it be. I'll leave it be. There's actually about six or seven ways to skin a cat, but I prefer the glove method. So tomorrow, I go to see an actual KLE."

"Well, that's a good thing," John commented. "Got another clinic this afternoon. You'd think they'd learn after the first bout of food poisoning."

"Who's got food poisoning?" It was just a curiosity question, and good to just enjoy coffee and a cigarette.

"Kamil was in peddling some of his stuff and not everyone has a cast iron stomach like you Seb," John answered with a grin. "That spiced stew doesn't sit well with stomachs used to roast beef. Monaghan and Loftus are becoming well acquainted with the base facilities, let’s put it that way."

"Ah, right. I'll let you go stick them with saline bags, then." He leaned in a little closer, still sipping his coffee. "And if you have a little free time tonight, barring any briefings back to the home of ISAF, I should be around..."

John grinned. "Right then. Cards it is," he said completely guileless as he turned to leave. "And drink the coffee!"

"I promise one day I'll stop charring my lungs!" he called after John. John was all grins and a casual wave, and it left Seb feeling comfortably warm in his chest. Yeah, he wasn’t going to really address that at a deeper level, didn’t have the headspace for it just then, but it was there, and that was good. It made it much easier.

He got on with a bit of paperwork for a bit before he heard the skype blip telling him someone was logging on and requesting connection.

Brook.

He accepted it and there was Richard's face, looking unshaven and his eyes were unsettling at the best of times and right now were downright disturbing.

"Well, well Colonel, I'd salute but I...don't give a fuck," he said genially.

"I don't expect it." He lifted a hand in half a wave, because he’d never really gotten used to video conferences. Never knew what to do with his damn hands. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Feast your eyes," Brook replied gesturing expansively as if he was under the influence of something. "It's not like I'm going anywhere until they fit me with a fake leg. Apparently I'm lucky I've got a knee. Fucking Hallelujah right?"

"I'm glad you're alive, for whatever that's worth." He wasn't sure it was worth anything, but he still wanted to say it. That was right up there with 'I'm sorry' in the grand scheme of things, useless.

"Well I'll take that to the bank along with my disability allowance," he said with a slightly manic grin. 

Sebastian was mostly sure he couldn't mask the grimace there. "You have any family worth mentioning?"

"No. None at all. Shall I give you a cliché? The army was my family... Actually they were now I think about it. Kicked my ass and chucked me out and then pissed off." Richard was very unhappy and it was all done in a lilting strong Irish accent.

He hadn't heard the accent get quite that strong before. Sebastian exhaled, but nodded muffled agreement. "I know it seems pretty distant right now, but have you thought about what you want to do after you get out of the hospital? Where you'll stay?"

"So many possible gutters to lie in," Richard said dramatically and then laughed. "No fucking idea. I'll find somewhere. Do something."

"Let me help." He felt bad, yes, but he'd also always liked Richard, and gotten along with him.

"Well of course Sebastian let’s look at apartments together," he said mockingly in a sing-song tone. "If it makes you feel better you can do something though fuck knows why.”

He snorted, and ran a hand back through his hair. "Well, I'm concerned. You were one of my men, Richard, and I'd like to help. Find you a job or something."

"And what is an amputee suited to do huh?" Richard said lazily.

"You might not have noticed, but logistics is sort of a desk and head job. And you're bloody *good* at it. You were a good supply officer, Brook." He leaned back in his chair, watching Richard's face as he tried to process what next. What real support could he give the man?

"...Boring. The exciting thing about being a supply officer was being in a warzone," Richard drawled. 

The edges of Sebastian's mouth twitched. "Defense contractor, then. Come back to the war zone. Get a springy leg. There's not requirement that you get a cane and mope, Richard."

"You fucking suck at pep talks Sebastian," Richard replied. "If I started that, I'd be running the fucking war by Christmas."

"Yeah, I suck at pep talks. So prove me wrong -- get your arse back here and let's see what you can do. God knows I'd prefer you limping around here as a contractor to the guys who're reliving their Kosovo glory days. Or Iraq." He leaned back in, elbows on his desk.

"Fine. What do I get for it?" Richard replied but he did sound a bit more focused.

"A job? Better pay than I make, given what I see coming across on those contracts. A piece of your life back," Seb offered. "Or *something*. You're just too fucking bright for me to stand idly by and see you go to pieces."

"Ha... I see what you did there," Richard replied. "You have no idea how bright I can be and now my burgeoning career as a tap dancer is ruined, I guess I'll have to do something.

"Nah, you never really had a career as a tap dancer," he smirked a little. "I'm pretty sure in six months you'll be able to make a prosthetic leg look slinky."

"Fuck you," he said sitting back. "Dissing my tap-dancing you heartless bastard. I'll have the sexiest leg in fucking England."

"You will," Seb reassured. "Even if you don't want to come downrange again, I can help you find something. I don't mean that in a call me never way."

"Fine, I'll hold you to it. Fucking doctors keep giving me anti-depressants. Screws with my head," Richard confessed. "I talk shit most of the time."

"That's all right. I can handle some pretty heavy shit talk." He took a sip of coffee.

"Yeah I know that. So fill me in, what's going on out there?" Richard asked sounding a bit more normal.

"We're still trying to get the police captain. The *right* way. Captain Watson stopped me from strangling the man to death in my office. It's taking too long for my taste to get the people who laid that bomb." 

"He's a spoil sport," Richard complained. "The bastard deserves to be taken apart."

"Well, he probably saved my career, or else I'd be back in the home country with you by now. We will get them, though. It's just... slower doing it the official way," Sebastian offered. "You haven't missed too much. A small med cap, a couple of raids and a heavy effort on cordons."

"You could have come and worked for me," he said. “Sounds par for the course. No other casualties?"

"Not since. We've been cautious." Gone and worked for Richard, yeah. Yeah, that was as likely as the coming apocalypse, given the state the man was in, but he was going to skim past that. "There as brief discussion on pulling the entire unit back from rotation early."

"Likely to happen?" Brook asked as if they were just chatting normally and he hadn't appeared to be on the verge of some sort of mental breakdown.

"Not as long as I have my wits about me. We'll still be rotating home on schedule, or later, but no sooner. I'm not going to let those bastards run us off." They'd shut the diplomatic mission when the communists had pressed top hard, and the place had just turned into a nest of terrorism and rampant religious rule in the wake of it. It felt like all of the sacrifice and hard work of over twenty years earlier had been wiped away, wiped smooth, over and over again. Fuck, the 1980s.

"You tell 'em," Richard said. "Got a while to run yet before they get rid of you. Thought you'd be joining me out here in Germany."

"Against advisement, the doc kept me here. Nasty fucking burn wound, shrapnel, bit of a concussion." Hell of a concussion. He didn’t have the double vision anymore, but sometimes his memory felt like cheesecloth, disjointed.

"Could be worse, you could be being hailed as the new protege in art therapy," Richard said with a sly smirk. 

"Didn't know you were into art," Seb commented, genuinely surprised by that.

"Good at faking it. It's a load of shit really," Brook answered with a definite smirk. "I bet if I could come up with a sob story for each I could make a fucking fortune."

"Why don't you try that, then? You could be the toast of the no doubt raging Avant garde art scene around the airbase." Seb tried for light, but there wasn't a lot of humor to be found in the situation, even if Richard liked his humor really dark.

"Competitive therapy pieces," he replied. "Shrink'll be here soon to tell me how to accept losing my leg. Bastard makes it sound like I lost it on the fucking bus or something."

"And if you look hard enough, you'll find out it rolled under a seat? Some bastard blew your leg off because he wants us out of the country -- for good reasons or bad reasons. Given there's been night letters, I'll go out on a limb and classify him as a bad actor who's pro-Taliban. So, fuck, be *angry*," Seb shrugged. He knew he'd be, he *was* angry. 

"Oh, I'm angry all right," Brook answered and smiled almost inanely. "I could burn the goddamn world with how angry I am."

Sebastian caught himself halfway to touching the screen at about Richard's shoulder height. "Yeah, well. Be productive with it. Don't self-destruct yourself, all right? And think about what I said. I want to help."

"Yeah well, skype when you have time. It's not like I'm going anywhere. Unless I find my leg under a seat on the fucking bus or something," Brook said shifting slightly. "Laters."

He lifted a hand. "I will. I'll see you around, Brook." He was going to keep on the guy, because there was a feeling that for all his bravado, he was hanging by a thread. Seb wanted to turn that at least into a decent rope.

He was about as stable as rocket fuel tossed on a barbeque. Fuck. It could have been him, and he really didn’t like to think about that.

But maybe, just maybe, he would have handled it better than Brook. He was older, after all. Than any of them, than his driver, than any of the dead men from that explosion or the ones before. 

It made his heart hurt, and he didn't know what to do with that.

* * *

It was strange to sort of have a routine with his free time. Particularly in the battlefield, but John... John had a lot to do in his free time now. They had new medics asking for help and more training, and he had his sometimes affair with Sebastian, and... And he'd neglected his relationship with Harry.

It was all too easy to do, because Harry was not the easiest person in the world to get along with. She always had a crisis, and nothing was more important than that...and generally she ignored everything he said by way of advice. Still, he did miss her. He always missed her when he didn’t see her so he took a bit of time to try and find a good time to skype her.

Sebastian was knotted up in meetings, and had been since John had seen him whip through the mess hall with a sandwich to say hello to a few of the troops who were heading outside of the wire the next day. 

Still, when he booted up Skype, there she was. "John! You look... Rugged."

He laughed a little. "That's what happens out here in, it gets sunny. How are you Harry?" She looked thin in the face and… well, his mum used to call it 'pinched and crinkly."

Pained, which wasn't good. "Well. Clara and I are separating."

"...Shit, Harry. What the hell has been happening?" he asked. That was the last thing he needed to hear. "I thought you were going to talk things through."

"Well, we tried. But she's tired of London, which I think is code for tired of *me*," Harry sighed. "And moving won't fix us."

"You've been arguing on and off for years Harry," John answered looking at her. "What do you really want?"

"I don't know. I want to have my career and not come home at the end of a day to a fight. That's what I want." She leaned into the camera.

John frowned. "Well that's the first time I've heard you go through one of these times and actually sound like you want to separate," he said carefully. "Maybe it’s for the best Harry then that you do separate. If neither of you are happy."

"I. I don't want to lose her, though. I don't know." Not that she'd listen to John, not that he knew what to say to her because he was crap at relationships to start with.

"Well maybe a bit of space will help her get her head together," John said. "Just...you're not drinking again are you?"

Harry pulled a face at him, and for a moment he was sure of what she was going to say next. He could hear it in his head, that faux demure 'oh, John' as if he were being a judgmental prick somehow. "What. No, no, but I have been going out. "

With?" he asked trying to stay bland and non-judgmental. "Anyone I know?"

"Oh, just friends." She waved one hand in a flutter. "I don't grill you about who you're associating with there in the giant sandbox. Who are you associating with?"

"Soldiers?" John replied evasively. "It's not like there is much choice out here. We’ve been on lockdown for a bit following that death. It was probably on the news." Deaths generally were.

"How has that been? I was worried, you went quiet right after and this is the first time I've seen you in weeks. The explosion was all the talk for the longest time, and then nothing. You know how it is. Everyone mentions it during prime minister's question time and it’s like it’s out of their system."

"I was pretty busy. Not all the injured were shipped out," John said by way of explanation. "And soldiers tend to think they have to live up to expectations."

"Whose expectations? Who do you know who's got expectations to live up to?" As if going into the army had been a shortcut in his life and not a legitimate career goal.

"You don't get the military...there's a whole culture out here. You don't wimp out in front of your buddies, you don't show trivial pain, you think you are the stereotype big damn hero...and then when it turns out that big damn heroes get hurt and break down too, they don't take it well," John answered. She really didn't get it.

Worse, she kept trying and failing. It would have been a gentle sort of relief for him if she just stopped trying, smiled and left it alone. But Harry never did. "Machismo. I don't know why you joined, John. You're much softer than all of that, much more sensible."

"Hey, are you mocking my manliness?" he replied. "I joined to do surgery and get the experience it would take me ten years to get in a hospital, you know that." And to get away from his family, what was left of them.

Times like that, he didn't question the decision. "It's not mocking your manliness, John. I know you enjoy what you do..."

"I'd rather have nothing to do if you know what I mean," John said. "But there's always something. Seb always says that the men could manage to do something to themselves in the middle of an empty room."

"Mmmhmm, part of why I don't date men. Seb?"

"The Colonel. He was one of the ones who had extended Infirmary time with me," he said smiling unconsciously.

"Ahh. Good officer?" She asked it as if there was no possibility that John could have a sane boss.

"The best," John replied truthfully. "Thinks about his men all the time, top of his priority list. He's a really good guy." And he really wanted to see him later. Even if it was just to...see him. He wasn't sure what that said about the relationship.

Hanging around a colonel like a puppy dog, no, John wasn't sure what it said about him. "Good. I always worry that you don't have enough allies."

"Hey, I'm popular," John protested. He was but he didn't have a lot of close friends in the normal sense.

He had acquaintances, and that was a lot. He was never without company, and amusement was as close as finding one of the hangout spots. Or waiting for a call. "I didn't say you weren't, but it’s always good that you have someone at your back."

"Yeah, it's nice." John said. "We've got a shitload of new staff to train up. Some of them I wonder if they actually have trained as doctors."

"Why, they don't know trauma medicine? Isn't that all you do?" Harry slumped back on her chair, and her eyes went sideways for a moment.

"Not all, no. We have to act as GP's as well," he said. "Pretty much all-rounders. But they waste things...we have to wait for medical supplies."

"Ah. But I thought you were a pretty big base." And she couldn't conceive of him running out of supplies, which was nice on one hand. And out of touch on the other.

"We are but it still takes time for things to get here," he said. "Speaking of which am I due a care package?"

"I was holding it hostage until I knew you were alive." She was smirking a little, and added, "Should be there in the next couple of days if you didn't already receive it. Lots of treats..."

"Worth their weight in gold. I should ask for cigarettes the way they go through them here," John admitted. "Thanks Harry. So how is work going?"

"Work is the only thing going well. Redesigning a new magazine, layout, all of that. New additions, new points of view..."

John made interested noises letting Harry talk for a bit, talk about news for people they both knew. It was easy to sit back while she rambled on and consider what he would do with Seb later. If anything. Back to back meetings was never good, but they ended eventually. Though the morning might come too soon... "You're off in la la land."

"Hmm? No, no… it's been a long day," he said. "I've been up since god know what time." which was true enough.

"I'll let you get some rest, then. Do you know when you're coming home? Any holiday leave. Even if Clara isn't here..."

"Yeah, I will," John said. "It's been good to speak to you Harry. I hope the whole Clara thing... works out well." It felt a little awkward.

"We'll, well. Whatever happens happens. I'm sure one day you'll manage a relationship long enough to..." Harry waved a hand. "Really understand it."

That was a bit of a subtle insult but he forced a smile and waved back. "Yeah, I’ll let you know if there is anything." he answered and said. "See you Harry." before disconnecting. Jesus, he was meant to feel better for talking to his family.

Instead he felt tired and drained, and mostly like he wanted to go get ahead on the inventory for the next day. Or sleep. But not relax, not after that last striking barb

Being a doctor, and army training didn't leave a whole lot of time for in depth relationships. But he had to admit he never seemed to get lucky on a longer term relationship front.

And there was his sister. His bleeding narcissistic sister, who'd had a string of long relationships, and had even married Clara. And if John was honest, he liked his sister in law more than his actual sister.

It was difficult to say why. Probably because he had ended up trying to look after her quite a bit when they were growing up, and then she had never forgiven him for moving away and leaving her at home when he went to university and she had elevated passive aggressiveness to an art form. What else could he do? But leaving her with their mum who was not ...stable at the best of times had probably made things worse.  
  
Still, he'd done the best he could. And she'd been professionally successful, just... An alcoholic. Was all.

It was guilt that got him going back to bail out Harry time and again. He'd been doing it for years. Dragging her to rehab, hiding all the alcohol, in some cases literally clearing up the mess after she lost it. It didn't make for a comfortable family relationship and that as much as anything sucked him of energy.

Well, fuck. No, not how he'd meant to spend his evening at all. Sometimes, he thought there was a good case for blocking skype downrange. At least for him personally. He tried to shake it off, and got back to work. He really wanted to see Seb but now he was feeling miserable maybe he wasn't the best company. Seb probably wouldn't want to waste his time like that. Sometimes it was easier to shut off, shutter himself in his work, than it was to really give himself space to think.

* * *

Twenty hours after he'd left the wire, they were back. They were back, and he'd hopped off their truck just inside the gate and counted vehicles, soldiers, gotten a head count and a status report from each and every vehicle before hopping onto the tailgate of their near mobility kill. There were a few minor injuries, but no one had needed medivac. It had mostly scared everyone shitless, and for a moment it was the last convoy out all over again.

The only upside was that Rahim was going to take care of the police chief, as well as accept and continue to work with them on putting an end to the night letters, and negotiate improvements to the village. Everyone won. 

"Just drive it up to the infirmary, we'll get someone else to get this back to the motorpool, all right, Jenkins?" They all needed to be checked out, and mostly it was for the creature comforts -- a little quiet, some coffee, something to help them sleep before they went back to barracks.

"Sir!" Jenkins agreed. "The docs’ expecting us?" He swung the vehicle in the right direction and Seb just wanted to decompress himself. He was still wound up.

"First vehicle radioed ahead. You were just in an explosion, Jenkins." It was hard to not smile a little as he kept his arm wrapped around the beam between the two blown out windows. 

"Ears are ringing a bit sir, sorry. Thought I missed something," Jenkins said, and he did look a little dazed. They pulled up outside the Infirmary and it looked like half the medical staff had been mustered whether they were on shift or not.

"How many injured do you have?" John asked pushing forward, looking in the vehicle anxiously. "You hit?"

"Every last one of them. The shockwave was impressive. Bomb was a bit of a dud, and they managed to put some distance between it and them before it went off." Seb stepped off of the side running board, and held the door open. "Everyone out, the good doctors here want to take a look at you."

There was a brief moment of chaos as everyone got out and they were descended upon. "How about you, Seb?" John asked after glancing around.

Seb shouldered in closer to John, walking at a casual pace because walking casually made him *feel* all right. It was all in the motion, and there were motions for being scared fucking witless, and there were motions for when everything was all right and he felt calmer again. "Perfectly fine. There was the explosion, and we were coming under small arms fire."

"Well, I'll check you over," John said ushering Seb inside. "As I'm technically not on shift, and the others have things under control."

"Good. They're just banged up, but..." He wanted to make sure they were really all right, that they were healthy, that the one who said he was nauseous wasn't in some first stage of medical trouble. It was easier to bundle the whole truck load of them in than just single one out.

John gestured to his office. "I can get you a coffee..." he suggested. “Sit down a moment, you look wired."

"Gets your heart going," Seb admitted as he walked in step with John. "It's different than when you go in on a raid. When there's a purpose. Moving from point a to point b is just..."

"Unsettling," John nodded. "Okay, any knocks or blows to the head? Let me look at your eyes."

He sat down once John had the light on, tilting his head back so he could watch John and do what the other man wanted. "Still the right color? Rahim called me a devil at some point in our negotiations, but I suspect it was a compliment."

"Funny compliment. I nearly shit bricks when the call came through again. What happened?" John asked as he took his pulse with a look of concentration.

Seb mostly let his eyes drift, looking at John's fingers on his wrist, let the man manipulate and maul him. "Usual, coming back in, got the shit blown out of us. Rahim will help us put an end to it."

"You made a good deal?" John sounded interested. "Any tenderness or impact sites I should check over?"

"My vehicle was fine. Third in line." He slouched a little in the chair, watching John. "And I spent the entire firefight on the damn radio because my radio operator froze."

John winced. "Wouldn't want to be in his shoes tomorrow then," he said. "Well, you don't appear to be in shock or injured. So I prescribe a hot cup of tea or coffee."

“I’ll give him the night to sleep on it. This is his first time out -- it's as much his squad leader's problem as his. Are you going to rush back to the barracks, or...?" He stayed where he was.

"Not unless you are," John said fetching a drink and handing it over. 

Mug of tea, in one of those tacky Christmas in Kabul mugs they'd all ended up with one way or the other. He still wasn't sure why his sister, Becks, thought he might appreciate it -- it wasn't the same Afghanistan they'd grown up in, not by a long shot. Tribal shit had gotten worse, the sense of nationhood was preserved in a select few... "I grew up here. Here and Iran. Did I ever mention that? I was in the same school class as Rahim's cousin Fahran." Dead just from accidentally finding a land mine with his body, just a decade ago. No one had given a fuck about Afghanistan then, it'd been Kosovo, Kosovo, Kosovo.

"I didn't know that.." John said. "What were you doing in Afghanistan? Your dads work?"

He hadn't taken a sip of the tea yet, just holding on to that bloody stupid mug. "Yeah, my father was the head of mission in a few places. It hurts to see what happened here after we all gave in to the soviets." 

"Is it a lot worse?" John asked sounding genuinely interested as he sat down as well.

"Yeah. The soviets took their toll on the infrastructure, the political structure, and then left it to the warlords; the Taliban finished the damage done. This was a beautiful country, it could still be. But everyone I knew from then has been touched by tragedy here. They talk about dead relatives lost on one of the many conflicts, or the mines, or in a bit of corruption, like its bog standard." He rubbed fingers along his jaw. "It's become normal."

"Mmm...that's, that's really sad," John said with a frank sincerity. "What do you remember from back then? Sticks in your mind?"

"Going through the markets without playing spot the body bomber," Seb deadpanned. "Market day here was always big and celebratory, particularly after the harvests, just before winter. The last hurrah before the snow, usually coincided with Eid."

"You used to go out alone?" John said surprised at that.

"Oh yeah. I was a kid -- you'd go off with a handful of change, and come back with enough sweets and bread to kill you, then play football all day with everyone from school, until prayers." He took a slow sip of the tea. "No, can’t imagine any brit doing that here now."

"Me neither," John replied and smiled making his tone light. "Sweets huh? Anything good?"

"Same sort of stuff you come across in most of the middle east -- spices and pistachios and sugar pastes." He slouched a little more. "Nostalgia will get you nowhere."

"I don't know. Maybe it reminds you of what it is all about. Being here." John said. "You always remember stuff from when you were a kid even if it was shit. I remember the place around the corner from where we lived as having the best fish and chips in the world."

"Still in business?" Seb asked out of curiosity. Because if that was to remind him of why he was there, it felt all the more hopeless.

"Yeah, last time I went back there," John said. "It was okay, different owners I think. Harry and I used to get some every Friday. We had an afterschool swimming club.” He looked thoughtful. "We had something on most nights really."

"How is your sister?" He could generally guess there was a bit of baggage there, but he never could pinpoint how much. Spending a lot of time with someone growing up could be a double edged sword.

"Getting a divorce apparently," John said with an exasperated sound. "How about yours? Heard from her recently?"

"Oh, still married. Chugging along in life. I never know what to say to her." He shrugged his shoulders a little.

"Have you spoken to her recently?" John asked. "Or anyone on Skype?"

"Just Richard. He's a complete bloody head case, by the way." He lifted his eyebrows at John. "I feel responsible for the state he's in."

"Not being funny Seb, but he was a bit off the wall before he was injured. It's not your fault what happened." John said. "I know you feel responsible for your men but that wasn't down to you."

"I took him out because I knew he was bright enough to leave an impression on the town," Seb countered. "I didn't expect him to come back without part of his leg."

"Shit Seb, if you knew in advance who was going to get hurt and how you wouldn't take them out at all. You got hurt as well then. It's a fucking shame, and depressing as all hell, but he's alive and he is smart enough to make it."

"I can't fix it for him, but I can offer to help." It was the same he'd do for any soldier, but Brook... Brook had been something else, he had a spark in him that Seb just couldn't put a finger on. 

John smiled. "And that's why you're good at being in charge. You give a shit. There are a lot who don't."

"Nah, they still give a shit. They've just decided it's too much effort to give too much of one," Sebastian countered, "and it probably crosses a line they drew for themselves."

"So you'll help him. You'll do you best for him. No one could ask for more," John answered.

“It's spitting into the wind at this point." He rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. "Sorry. You don't need this shit."

"Hey, come on, I'm your friend right? If you can't sound off to someone you'll explode," John answered.

"Ba dum tish?" He tilted his head up again to look at John. "I'm glad we're friends. I'm... I'm just glad."

"Yeah, me too," John grinned. "Doctor talk can get a bit much. There's a limit to how many times we can play the oh my god you'll never believe what I saw on the x-ray game. "

"Dunno, that sounds endlessly entertaining to me, still, but it's also pretty novel," Seb drawled. "Like that 'Please don't clear *anything* with a 50 cal round.' PowerPoint that was going around."

John chuckled. "You need to relax more," he said. "What do you do on leave?"

"Honestly? I sleep in my sister's guest room, and try to avoid my father. My mates from uni are either in the military themselves or they've gone banker. And bankers aren't much fun to be around, unless they're on the wrong side of a bar fight." And he usually found a few places to gamble. The fun on the town with John and Richard had been... unique. Worth it.

"Sounds like as much fun as my trips home," John replied dryly. "Okay, fantasy holiday, what would it be?"

"Fantasy holiday. Real fantasy, or slightly grounded in reality fantasy? They're two different things."

"Let's go with... real fantasy, money no object and all that," John replied sitting back as he watched him. "If you won the lottery."

"I'd do a tour of the Himalayas again. I'd probably travel and hunt until I died." Not until he ran out of money. Money wasn't really a huge barrier in his life.

"Hunting huh? Didn't you say something about you were thinking of writing or something?" John said. He looked thoughtful. "I've always wanted to see the northern lights. Never got there."

"Arctic camping?" Seb half asked, half proposed.

"Or a trip up to Norway or Greenland or something. It's just one of those things I haven't gotten around to figuring out. Harry freaks out if I don't visit her on leave..." John shrugged. "There could be hunting up there you know."

"Or, just general admiring of animals. I did a stint through the Himalayas just after college, and wrote about it. It doesn't all have to end in a gunshot." He took another sip of tea, and exhaled. "I'm pretty sure that killing reindeer without being a native will get you ten to twenty years."

"I hear just getting to see a snow leopard is a once in a lifetime event," John suggested. “I like photography too." He shrugged a little. "Did you publish the Himalaya thing? I'd like to read it."

"Now you're humoring me," he smiled, crossing his legs at the ankle. "I'll see if I can dig it up. It's a bit harlequin novel for hunters, I'll be honest."

"Seriously, I'd like to read it," John said. "You don't join the military unless you have a bit of interest in that sort of thing."

Sebastian snorted, but nodded. "All right. Just don't hold it against me. I also tear up watching the big cats on nature shows."

John chuckled at him. "Sure you don't have a pet tiger under your bed huh?"

"Nah. I have a couple of rugs in storage with my books." He lifted his eyebrows at John. "I chased a tigress down a drain pipe in India. She'd moved after I shot, and it winged her badly."

"You ran after a wounded tiger ...into a confined area?" John sounded incredulous. "And you are still alive?"

"And missing a nipple," Seb pointed out. "She took one swipe at me before I got a knife into her eye. Christ. And now I'm jumpy when I hear something go 'boom'."

"I did wonder how you got those scars," John admitted. "You were bloody lucky she was weakened otherwise she would have crushed your rib cage."

"I got an excellent nick on one," he said with a gesture to his side. "I just didn't want her to bleed out in the drainpipe. That's a shit way to die. Go out fighting is a lot better." 

"I would prefer you not going out at all," John said. "If you know what I mean."

"Yeah, me either." He smiled over at John for a moment. "So, I have to do the responsible thing and make my reports. You probably need to get back to sleep."

John hesitated. "Do you have to do your reports right now?" he asked.

"I, uh..." He took another sip of the tea. "Probably do need to at least write it up right now. Take another look at it in the morning."

"How long is it likely to take," John asked almost hopefully. "I just thought maybe...well.”

"Thirty minutes?" Seb pushed himself slightly more upright. "If you, uh..."

"Mine or yours?" John said looking immediately happier. "If you want. I mean, if you're tired we could just...rest."

"Yeah." Yeah, and it was hard to guess at what point he was going to get his ass chewed out by higher for it, because it hadn't just been blowjobs in conex boxes and hiding hand jobs. It'd been all in all pretty nice. "Mine. Slightly larger illusion of privacy."

"Okay. I'll give you half an hour and meet you there," he said.

He finished off the tea, and eased himself to his feet -- now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was bone tired and sore. It was as good an opportunity as any to fish his keys out of his pockets, working one off of the ring. "If I'm not there, let yourself in."

John looked faintly stunned as he took the key but nodded and smiled. "Got it. Don't be too late."

"I won't be." He left John's mug on the side desk, and looked over his shoulder on the way out. Yeah, that had sounded about right, felt right. Sometimes the best decisions were ones he hadn't overthought first.

* * *

There had been a turning point where things had changed, John considered as he contemplated waking up properly. That one night of actually just sleeping together rather than "sleeping together" had somehow shifted the boundaries. Now, more often than not, circumstances allowing, one or other of them could be found sneaking out of the others room in the morning, even if there had been no hot sex involved. Particularly as it was starting to get really cold it was very nice to wake up with your own living breathing heater.

The only downside was that Seb's alarm clock was bloody annoying. And there were two of them, despite the fact that he'd never witnessed the man oversleep. He seemed to wake up five minutes before the first alarm, and twenty before the second alarm, which were probably of more use for gauging how long the tea had been steeping than any actual wake up call.

"Snowed last night. Bet you're going to get at least one amateur ice skater."

"Joy." John answered yawning. "Twisted ankles, head bumps, broken bones... Just what I wanted. Jesus… it's cold out there. That's it, get another doctor, I'm staying here."

"Tea." Seb nudged the back of John's wrist with a warm mug, and he did have to move then to reflexively grab at it. He sat on the edge of the bed, half-lacing up his boots. "Last shipment didn't make it through the pass before the snowfall. Already got the first pissed off radio report, so we'll be sending out support to dig out the jingle trucks and a couple of contractors. Don't even want to discuss the stupidity they're up to already…"

"You taking a group yourself or just sending them out?" John asked sipping the mug gratefully. "And don't tell me you are going running?"

"Oh, I'm going running. No, there's meetings in the morning, and we're coordinating route clearing ops with the Americans again this afternoon. By the time I retire, I should be fully qualified to join the department of transportation. With added c4." He lifted his eyebrows at John, and took a sip of his own mug. Seb looked relaxed, really relaxed -- softer around the eyes, almost mellow. 

"You are bloody mad," John replied good naturedly and couldn't help smiling back at him. "I reckon C4 on the M1 would keep a few commuters on their toes. Certainly get the gridlock moving."

"Whole new potholes to consider." He leaned in, and after a moment's hesitance stole a kiss from John. "Gotta get going. There's still some hot water left if you want it."

"Great," he said kissing back and catching hold of Seb to make sure it was worthwhile. "I'll see you later yeah? Don't take any chances out there. I'm a lazy bastard and I don't want to do more surgery."

Seb's hand lingered on John's shoulder for a moment before he stood up. "The only thing in danger is my blood pressure this afternoon. Good luck today."

"Yeah, you too." John said getting up even as Seb headed out, smiling to himself. There was something supremely comfortable about mornings like this. He managed to just time his trip in the shower to how long the hot water lasted and got dressed and headed over to grab a bit of breakfast before going to the Infirmary.

There was a decent breakfast still on, so he got in line quick and picked up some bacon eggs and granola. Lt. Wiley was there before him, and the handoff hasn't started yet.

"Hello," John said even as he sat down with his breakfast. He was hungry, and didn't want the bacon to get cold even if he was shoving it in a bacon butty.

"Slept in?" She had her notebook in front of her, as usual, and John tried to not think about how many kinds of mrsa were living on it.

"Too bloody cold to get up early," John replied with a mouthful. "Pretty heavy snowfall too."

"Particularly with the barracks on the other side of the fob," she said agreeably, grinning a little.

He felt a little bit of heat rise to his cheeks and smirked a little and ate a little more. "Mmm," he said."I got lost?"

"There's a wolf and little lost lamb joke in there, but it's early so I'll be kind and leave it alone, sir."

"I'll owe you one for that," John said rather good naturedly. "Were you on last night?"

"Yes, and it was dull. I started to space items in drawers exactly half a cm apart. Got through two rooms." She tapped her pen on the notebook. "I'm sure you had a much better night."

"That would be telling,” John said with a smirk. There was no point hiding it, it was fairly common. "I'm more likely to get snowball fight victims to treat today."

"Better than going through the drawers with a ruler," she countered. There were a few more from the day shift coming in, and that seemed to leave her satisfied as she looked at her watch. "Right. Nothing significant to report, sir, all patients have been more than well-tended."

"How is Hendriksen?" John asked, hurrying up his breakfast. "No recurrence of the stomach pains?"

"None, and I think he's free for release back to the wild. Stomach's been steady, hydration is good. I think one last day of rest in his barracks and he'll be as stupid as ever, I mean, as right as rain."

John chuckled. "Right the first time unfortunately. Okay, sleep well, I better get over there sharpish."

"Mmmhmm, yes, sir." She gestured a wave at him, and he took the hint.

He pulled his jacket tight as he went outside and half jogged across the compound towards their hospital building such as it was. He didn't envy Seb going out in snow and ice, the Infirmary was at least warm.

Once he was inside, he mostly knew he was staying inside the building. The few times he'd need to dart outside, he'd be moving too fast and too urgently to care. Settling into his office and starting the intake of the day's sick call -- light work -- was very comfortable.

Of course what it meant was that he had a lot of time for the rest of his staff to snark at him for yet another "walk of shame". He was starting to believe they had some sort of elaborate tracking mechanism going on.

Somehow, someone was keeping track of him. It was all very good natured, but clearly he and Seb couldn't have gotten away with it before they'd lifted the ban. It made him half-wonder how Seb had managed when it *had* been a drumming out offence. At the time, it hadn't really crossed John's mind -- one of the benefits of going both ways, and having a singular focus on his then budding medical career.

He didn't advertise but on the other hand he was pretty sure pretty much everyone knew. John did however, keep a close ear on mission reports coming in.

Everything was.... not quiet, but as expected. The group going to get the jingle trucks was struggling with the weather, but sending in regular sitreps, and well supported. They didn't have air because of the weather, and everyone was tense.

It put him on edge. There was a limit to how often their supplies could be inventoried, or arranged half a centimeter apart. He read up some journals online, he wrote up several of his surgical cases as requested, and planned some physicals.

It was almost a relief when his first injury of the day limped in, clutching his side helped by a one of the Sergeant. 

“It was only a matter of time,” he said getting up. “Over here please?”

He got him sitting on the edge of the bed. He was most likely not too bad as he didn't look too pale with it. "Thank you Sergeant," he said to the other man. "Now corporal, where is it hurting the most?"

"Everywhere?" he joked. "My ankle, mostly."

"You were holding your side...any sharp pains when you breathe?" he asked. He could pass this off but right now even a twisted ankle was interesting. He started getting the boot off carefully, able to loosen it.

"Down here," he said, gesturing towards his floating ribs, a little towards the back. Little did the Cpl know, but he was going to get the *best* of care.

“I'll take a look in a moment," John answer getting the already swollen ankle out and examining it. "Can you flex your toes?"

He watched the man try to do just that. His pinky toe was lagging, and he was grimacing as he did it "Like that?"

"Mmm." Possible fracture then. "Looks like we'll have to arrange an x-ray after the swelling has settled. You might have a bone fracture but we can't get one done immediately." It was bruising up already.

"What do we do, then?" The cpl looked confused.

"We strap it, give you a shit load of anti-inflammatories and some crutches and wait for a day or so," John replied. "To be honest if it is a minor fracture which I suspect it will be if it isn't just badly bruised, that pretty much the treatment if it is fractured."

"Am I off standing watch?" he asked a little too hopefully.  
  
"Unless you can do it sitting down," John replied. "Believe me, in a couple of hours you won't be able to stand on this at all. You need to sit with it elevated."

"Elevated, right." He leaned back, staring at his ankle. It was sad, that it was probably going to be the highlight of John's day.

"Let’s just see about the ribs a moment. Take your jacket off a moment will you?" John asked as he fetched a bandage to give some minimal support and compression.

He shifted out of his jacket, and left his t-shirt on. It was easy and comfortable, explaining things calmly to the man.

He used his fingers to probe carefully around the ribcage. "Yelp and swear when I hit a bad spot,” he said with a half-smile.To think everyone thought of the glamour and excitement of being a doctor in a warzone.

* * *

He missed his operational days.

It made him volunteer to go out when most officers wouldn't. There were times where a colonel was... When the CO could better send an LTC to do his work, but Sebastian never did. It never felt right if there was something he could be doing and he sent someone else instead, adding to *their* workload. It just wasn't right, which was why he was there for the Shura.

It was winter and there had been disturbing rumors that were out of character, and he didn't have someone who might have the fluency to know the cultural cues of what was and wasn't being said instead of just the words. He had come with a contingent of men of course and there were several squads out around the region to get their ears to the ground. 

It was just a matter of working out what was going on, exactly. And he was comfortable enough that he had an interpreter... but didn't need him. Not that the 'terp knew that, but Sebastian liked to play it close to the chest when he could. They gathered slowly -- for such an urgent meeting, the local time-scale still held.  
  
You couldn't hurry the elders, they came at their own time and there was a certain amount of dignity involved that couldn't be rushed. But if he wanted to find out about the rumors, he had to wait for them all, and the tea to be brewed.

He greeted the ones who'd arrived, though, relaxed, asked after their homes and their families in the proper way -- families, never wife, never daughter, let them offer what they wanted to in response based on their own comfort level with Sebastian. Rahim wasn't there, but his nephew was.

That was something, at least he had a connection there. Rahim would have been better, but he would take what he could right now. The discussion began innocuous with comments about the state of the herds with the snow that had fallen, how it compared to previous years and so on.  
  
And then it shifted to heating oil, and providing security for supplies and purchases. That, that was what Sebastian had been expecting, and he assured them through the terp that they were working hard to keep the roads open and secure, though the pass had been a challenge due to the weather.  
  
It opened the topic up and the concerns started to fly back and forth.

"We have lost more of our herds than we expect." One of them was saying. "Not to the weather or illness."

"To where?" Sebastian asked, holding onto his cup of chai. Just waiting and watching and a little support at the edges.

"My people tell me they were taken. By men. We get this at harvest before the winter, but during? I do not understand this." The elder looked indignant.

"Perhaps Al Qaeda’s supplies have been lost?" Another suggested. 

The base. Something about it never rang right with Sebastian, as far as names went, but no one could credit those folks with naming creativity. "Do you know of an active group in the area?"

"I have heard of more movement than before," Rahim's nephew Dehquan said. "In the low lying regions at the base of the mountain. Vehicles travelling."

He'd had UAS reports of the same, but. "Does anyone know whose vehicles they are?"

"I have heard that it is Jawid Durani." It was rare to get an actual name. "He was seen by the son of my second nephew. The boy is reliable."

Durani, Durani. That family had been trying to expand their area of influence for some time, long before the war, and it had never taken -- whether they just had poor luck or they just weren't that bright, Sebastian didn't know. But if they'd found an ally who wanted to capitalize on that family's poorly actualized ambition, well...

"The man is greed walking on two legs. If he fights for the Taliban it is not from zeal," a very distinguished looking elder declared. "If it aligned with his own purpose then he would be a zealot."

Sebastian inclined his head, and kept reaching mentally for every intel report he could grasp. "And how many animals have gone missing?"

Various members chipped in with one or two here, 4 or five there. Put together it was a hell of a lot. The more concerning thing was it was the sort of thing that was more some sort of major action and that should not be happening at this time of year.

This was the time of year when everyone focused on subsistence. On surviving, on making things as individually good for themselves and their families and their villages as was possible, and getting through the unbelievably sharp cold winter, not. Stealing. He glanced over to the new police chief, and cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"We have investigated," the police chief has said. "There have been many vehicle tracks through the snow. I do not understand how unless Jawid has found money elsewhere."

Ugh, it was a half a step towards the jump that yes, Jawid had found money somewhere! -- Clearly! -- and yet that leap did not take place. Sebastian met the other elder's eyes, one by one, gauging them to see if they shared his incredulity.

"Do my ears deceive me or do you not believe this is what has occurred?" Dehquan asked sounding almost offended at the stupidity in front of him. "It is evident. Money to him from somewhere, that is obvious but from where and for what purpose is not as obvious."

"I'll have it looked into," Sebastian said firmly. "This is not a time of year that your villages can be worried about what's happened to your livestock if it's something my people can take care of."

"Then you will look into this mystery for us?” Dehquan asked. "This would be most welcome. It would seem there is no initiative otherwise."

"I will do it," Sebastian confirmed, because the locals were incompetent.

"As Allah wills it you shall be successful," Dehquan said gesturing for more refreshments. "It troubles me that they might think of an attack in this season.”

"It troubles me as well." He offered it in as assuring a voice as possible. "This is a trying season."

"My Uncle is concerned." And for Rahim to be concerned that mean the scale of it was troubling indeed. There were mutters of concern.

"Tell your Uncle it will be dealt with," Sebastian offered, taking another sip of his tea. "God willing."

He was about accept the thanks of those there when he heard the snapping report outside of gunfire. Instantly everyone there knew what it was.

"Down, down, down!" He crouched as he got to his feet, reaching for his radio, "Shots fired at the shura, I need backup. Does anyone have direction?"

And that was when the save of communications came over his radio, and he was pretty sure he was stepped on by a bit of panic from the nearest unit. "I repeat, does anyone have direction?"

"Visual from the east sir...shit!" Lieutenant Dexter responded over the comm. "Confirmed sighting of ten men. Armed.” He heard a massive explosion over the comm and outside as well, and the gunfire picked up.

"Return fire." He gestured to Sgt. Lackland to get over by him, to keep doing the appropriate calls back to the main base from a somewhat sheltered location.

"We've got wounded sir!" a young slightly adrenaline shaky voice came over the comm. "Fuck... More coming in from the south west! Lieutenant is down!"

He kept his swearing to the inside of his head. "Take cover, secure a foothold. Do you understand me?"  
"Trying sir.” There was a crackle and then another explosion and another call over the comm.

"Colonel, breakway group heading for your position!"

"Roger." His Sgt was lagging a little, but Sebastian gestured to the nearest two elders. Completely indefensible location, and yet getting out into the open would do him no good. He headed for a window and unslung his rifle, crouching to stay down.

Looking out, it was worse than he thought. This wasn't raiding party, this was a full scale attack. He saw another of his men drop down, his leg folding under him as he was heading for cover.

"Sir we need to radio air support!"

Bloody -- no, tell the Colonel. "Do I sound like a fucking air controller?" One hard look at his SGT had him calling it in, but Christ on a stick, that should not have been falling through the cracks.

They were rattled that was for sure. A shura usually had enough important people there that an attack would have been risky, but whoever was attacking didn't give a shit. He could hear the order, swearing and gunfire moving back and forth. He was looking for the leader of the other side, wanted to take him out.

They were covering their faces, but he could see them, getting closer, doing a god-damned spray and pray. He huddled in closer to the wall, edged up, maintained his sight picture and pulled the trigger once as one bastard popped up out of the brush.

Now they were down to nine at least. Dehquan was shouting instructions as well and his men were also returning fire. Just as well because there were more than nine or ten combatants out there.  
  
Math classes for everyone when they finally got back to the base. Sebastian kept focused, listening to the steady stream of radio comms, kept himself up on it. They were sending a gunship, thank god, eta 10 mikes.

They were holding their own; they just needed to hold out a bit longer. He saw a corporal run out under fire and drag the wounded man not far from their building to cover. He heard Lackland radio confirmation of medievac on the way and medical support.

Good. He stayed in position, and kept picking people off as they made themselves known. It was easy, always had been -- just because he wasn't carrying one of his good rifles with a floating barrel didn't mean he couldn't take a decently long shot and get it right. 

The gunship coming in was pretty decisive sounding. There was a lot of disruption and there seemed to be a retreat in place as the medievac helo was heading in.

Good, good. Sebastian held his fire, and his men didn't stop shooting just because they were one the run. Just because a man had his back to Sebastian didn't mean he couldn't run and gun in five seconds. He dropped his clip, reloaded by muscle memory, kept his sight picture as comms indicated that they were securing a piece for the medivac. Finally.

The medievac was down, and he could see a familiar figure through the smoke. Of course, John. Damn it, he didn't know whether to be grateful or pissed off. John should be back at the base waiting for casualties, not out here.

He kept his focus, even as he did a head count inside of the shura. The firing had stopped at least. Shit, his terp was gone. So much for keeping his fluency to a small group. "If you wish to stay here, we will continue to provide cover for you. If you wish to come with us when we pull out, for transportation back to your villages... We will do that as well."

"You are an honorable man," Dehquan said nodding. "We shall come with you."

He gestured to his SGT. "I want the doors clear and cover them to leave with the medivac. We'll maintain presence until the bird is up, and then drive out," Sebastian ordered.

"Yes sir! Zone in front of your position is cleared and covered sir," came the reply.

"Roger." He stepped out first, at the ready, and when a bullet didn't immediately go through his head he leaned in and gestured for them to come out.

Everyone exited warily, and the biting cold air outside was stinking with the acrid smell of gunfire.  
  
He sized up the situation out there. He could hear John shouting out instructions over the other side of the area.

Good. He hung back, making sure the room was clear, pulling up the rear as they headed across at a quick pace. After a shooting like that, he hated being in the open -- there was a big part of him that wanted to hunker down under camouflage and keep firing.

There was no gunfire though which seemed a bit strange, that it was all shut down so rapidly. "Casualties on the medievac," he heard John say over the comm. "I'll need a lift back. They needed my space. Clear for take off."

"Roger, join up with the second vehicle." Seb glanced over his shoulder again, scanning, still ramped up as they headed at a good tactical movement towards the vehicles.

"Roger," he heard back and the men cleared back out of the way as the helo took off. He was half watching when he caught the trail of what looked like an RPG missile coming from an area within the village. 

It hit the helicopter dead on, and it immediately went out of control, spiraling with gouts of flame and thick choking smoke all around.

The noise rattled him, rattled him hard, warping sound badly as he ran for cover at the vehicles. They needed to regroup and then see what could be done at the helicopter, while he called a nine liner up. Unfortunately at that point the attack began again and insurgents swarmed at them in the moment of distraction when the helo went down. It was all a fucking trap! Not just an ambush but a trap, planned with a deft sideways screwed up tactic he hadn't seen from any of the known Chiefs to date. The firing continued, and he just kept running towards the best mass of his men, and while he got one bastard close, they were overwhelmed. 

Fuck.

The sound of gunfire punctuated the air again and he saw those present at the shura trying to get away, some of them cut down and injured. Two of their vehicles broke away some of the squad piling in, taking heavy fire as they did so. He was covering them, telling them to go, go, go hoping like hell they could get clear and that John was on one of the vehicles. He should be, he'd told him to go.

It wasn't an evacuation anyone would've been proud of. It wasn't going to make it into the fucking textbooks, Sebastian knew, as he changed magazines again. Six, seven soldiers left, two vehicles, they needed to move to secure the helicopter, they...

Had no fucking chance. Where the hell had all this firepower come from? The Taliban shouldn't have this much fire power. Fuck.

"Surrender!" came the bellowing demand in Pashtun.

Seven soldiers left, eight if he counted himself. He leaned up from behind the bit of wall he and his RTO were behind. They just didn't have the fucking ammo to hold out, even if backup was coming. Was it better to hold out and die, or stall for time. "We'll surrender if I can be assured of my men's lives!"

"I swear, in Gods name," a voice came back. "Surrender and throw down your arms."

He looked over his shoulder at his RTO, gauging him. He'd been hit, and all Seb could see was red staining his shirt at the arm, held funny. Buy time, he needed to buy time, and every hold out, every list of survivors he knew had fought, fought to the bitter end. "I have injured -- they will require treatment!"

"Then it is fortunate you have provided your own doctor," came the response. "On your knees."

"I want to do a headcount," Seb countered, standing up slowly. "I need to take account of my men." Or he was going to get shot in the chest.

"Then count," the man gestured. He did not recognize him from any intel and that was worrying. "They are all here and not going anywhere."

He could see out of the corner of his eye, some of Dehquan's men flanking into position, and Dehquan himself just tucking himself out of sight of their aggressors. Two of them were 'escorting' John over towards the injured man a little forcibly.

So he took his careful time, and waited for a signal from Dehquan. He stopped by each other group and got them up, got them to their feet and collected, talking with each and surveying the state they were in. It calmed them, got them each a little more time.

They had to be ready because letting them fall into the hands of the enemy was not an option. They seemed to know something was up, and John gave him a look that he knew read him like a book. Once they were together, he did one last scan of the environment, noted that Dehquan was ready to move. Palming his utility knife was going to have to be tough. He started towards the leader then, gun abandoned back behind the low wall. "I surrender."

"Wise," the man was saying, and he noticed the point where they relaxed a little, went off high battle alert, not suspecting anything would occur at this point. Why would it, their captives were surrounded, there was no rescue due for ten minutes or more at least.

Apparently that little group was unfamiliar with the phrase 'because they were British'. Sebastian kept his hands up as he neared the man, watching his calm expression in the moments before he whipped his knife out, and got in too close, too fast, wrapping an army around the man's neck, blade point pressed against the side of his neck.

"C'mon, fuckers. This fellow mean something to you?!"

The standoff situation was derailed by a launching counterattack by Dehquan even as the leader of this particular group was gesturing for his men to hold off. 

"Vehicles now!" he heard his sergeant bellow over the comm and his men were legging it, along with those of Dehquan men as well.

Good in one way because they were getting away, but bad in another as it left him, John and their injured Lieutenant without protection.

"Drop the knife or we kill your men!" came the retort. Insurgents were surrounding John and their injured lieutenant. John was fighting to get hold of his gun but was literally being forced down and guns were on them. 

Still, that was better than the whole lot of them. That was something, and Sebastian figured he was going to stick that blade in regardless, and go down fighting. He could apologize to John later in hell. He hesitated, watching his men retreat. After a few moments, he realized they were close to 300 meters out. Good enough, and mounting up. He lifted the knife away, hands in the air.

"We have no more time…" he heard the man say behind him. "Subdue them!"

He had a brief moment of seeing someone taking a rifle butt to the back of John's head....before with a blinding crash the same happened to him.

* * *

John came around blearily, his head thumping with pain, and the distinct nauseous feeling that came with concussion. Fuck, he vaguely remembered what was happening but had no idea where he was.  
  
Small dark room, a thin mattress under his shoulders and then his hands as he started to push himself up to alert to look around. It smelt cold and damp, grim and he felt like shit, but it was pretty fucking obvious what had happened. Captured by the Taliban, and that was a whole world of nightmares right there.  
  
He could make out, through slightly blurred vision another a lump on the other side of the room. He'd recognize that profile anywhere. He half staggered over towards him, "Seb? Seb you with me here?"

"Ugh, Christ." That was Seb, and that was a small relief. That he wasn't there alone, that he had someone else with him, that Seb was alive.

He had been almost frozen in terror when Seb had been going out there to surrender, sure they would just shoot him down. "Yeah, you probably have concussion. Feeling sick?"

"Gunna end up one of those brain damaged rugby players." Seb shifted, sat up slowly, a hand up to his temple. "Yeah. Anyone else here?"

"Just us. I hope to hell they just left Edwards, and didn't shoot him." He replied, reaching to feel around Seb's head. "Yeah you've got a lump there. Big one."

"Right." Not much to be done just then, except hope that his brain didn't swell. If he was conscious, it was at least a good sign that that was unlikely. "You get a chance to escape, you take it. None of that heroic shit." 

"You think I stand a chance without you? Don't be an idiot," John replied. "But yeah, that applies both ways. Especially for you - doctors are useful. We're more likely to be kept alive so the training informed me."

He watched Seb squint open his eyes, and even in the dark he didn't seem to be focusing well. "Yeah, might have to wait until my head stop pounding to come up with plan."

"Yeah, same here,” John said probing the blood sticky lump he could feel on Seb's head. "Damn. So...uh, you ever been captured before?"

"Not so you'd call it useful to this situation. Briefly lost control of a building in Serbia, but that was the bloody ROE more than a capture." Seb rubbed at his eyes, as if it would help, and then seemed to start to survey the room. "You hurt?"

"Crack to the back of the head, same as you. We have any supplies in here?" he asked feeling around a bit.

He started to rifle his pockets, and Seb did the same. Nothing, not even a pad of paper. "Picked us clean. Bugger. Dogtags gone as well."

John immediately clutched at his throat suddenly noticing their absence. "Shit, why would they take those?"

"Proof of life? Souvenirs? They look nicer than teeth on a necklace?" Sebastian started to stand up, or tried to, still a little shaky.

"Easy...if you throw up, we'll have to live with it," he said steadying himself.

"Nah, little steadier than that," Sebastian countered, a hand steadying himself on the wall as he edged over to the door. It didn't open, and he tapped at it at the edges. "Good old crossbeam dropped over it from the other side."

"Any weak spots you can see?" John asked, trying to see if he could find anything of any use.

"Checking." He tapped at the bottom as well, moving carefully, pressed against it. "Three crossbeams. They don't want us going anywhere."

"Bugger," John sighed a little. This was not his forte but he could try and think it out as best he could.

No windows, just bare light coming in from under above and around the door edges. One door, two mattresses, and the clothes they were dressed in. 

Sebastian turned away from the door. "Fuck, they took my belt buckle."

"Why the hell would they do that?" John asked checking himself. Nope, nothing there. They knew what to look for.

"I, uh. My sister got it for me." He moved away from the door, and was gesturing a little as he talked. "It was a knife as well. She was very pleased with herself."

"Christ, and they knew to look for it?" John blinked in the dim light, his eyes adjusting. "I wouldn't have thought about that."

"Oh yeah. We're fucked." Sebastian was grinning, still rubbing at his eyes as he sat down with a grim sort of posture. "Christ. I keep getting blows to the head, and my sniping days are over."

"We could be anywhere," John said searching for some sort of clue, any sort of clue in the dim light of their surroundings.

"Airflow's decent and the floor isn't breathtakingly cold. Walls are squared off," Seb pointed out. "So, in an old old house."

"Could be worse, could be cuffed or something," he said. His finger rattled against a bucket. "Great, a shit bucket I think."

"Think of it as a hunting bucket," Seb suggested, tone still a little light. "Christ. There goes the religion play as well."

John was about to reply and hesitated. "I think someone is coming," he said in a low voice even as the sound was more distinct.

Seb started to stand up again, uneasily. "Get a good view of the room beyond," he whispered. "We're probably running on a short clock."

John nodded, and found himself squinting as the door cracked open. "Up infidels! Scum.”

He could see a glimpse of the room beyond, just for a moment as a heavy set Afghan loomed.  
  
Empty, empty and well lit, which boded well for them both.

"We're up -- why are you detaining us?" Seb asked it in English -- maybe it was better to keep them off balance, and use what they could keep to themselves for their own advantage.

"You are invaders, heretics, interlopers...” the man replied and gestured to some other men who entered the room heading his way. He instinctively wanted to back away but there was nowhere to go.

"This isn't going to end the way you want," Sebastian uttered, moving away from the wall a little, trying to put himself between the other men and John. "My countrymen will find us."

"You are very far from your countrymen," the man said. "The doctor first...it won't take long. Rastin, you may take the Colonel later."

Okay, this was definitely not good and John prepared himself to try and struggle because terror demanded he did something. They'd all had briefings about this, about what they could do, what they would do...and the fear surged up as they went for him.

"Like hell!" And it wasn't as if either of them stood there peaceably, which seemed to startle their captors. John dodged, and he briefly saw Seb lunging at the leader, while John dropped to try to make it past the two bruisers to get to the door. One of them got a hand on his arm and punched him.

He elbowed back sharply, reeling from the shock, seeing the light in the outer room and frantically trying to get there, even with his head ringing...until he got winded by a gut punch and went down.  
  
It was hard to breathe, and he could hear Seb fighting, swearing, as the two of them dragged him out to the outer room -- two doors, both closed, well lit. He couldn't tell if they were near outside yet, and as he turned his head to try to see more he ended up kicked in the back.

Fuck, he was going to end up pissing blood. He didn’t stop struggling. They were only going to get weaker, and there was a chance if he was distracting enough, Seb might be able to do something. Where the hell were they taking him?

Dragging him to the other room, it looked like, which narrowed down which door would be their escape. They hauled him back up to his feet, twisting one arm had as they marched him inside. There was a wooden table, two stools, and shackles attached to the table legs, so it didn't surprise John to find himself flipped onto it hard, on his back.

He kicked out as hard as he could because nothing good started this way and holy shit, if he was going down, he was going to at least have had the dignity of not making it easy for them. "Fucking bastards!" he yelled at them. "Let me go, I'm a doctor!"

"And we will keep you alive longer if for no reason but that!" They laughed then, shackling him into place tightly, sprawled on his back. There were some words exchanged, and it didn't sound like Pashto.  
  
He couldn't catch what they were saying but he felt on the verge of panic, his head frantically trying to find an angle where he could see more.

They tightened the shackles down, still talking to each other as he pulled with his arms and his legs. It just made them laugh more, and with the dizziness he already had from the blow to his head, it was almost too much. In the corner he could see a stick, and some length of wire, and a hand drill. And a camera on a tripod. "We will record you first. It will truly be you-tube."

"What the... you are fucking crazy!" John blurted out staring at the items and wishing like hell he hadn't read reports of things like this. 

Except he had. It hadn't happened to any of *them*, but translators, people who helped them, yes. Yes, that had happened, they'd seen mangled bodies and families crying out in outrage, blaming them, but it was one thing to see and hear of it in a report, and another to experience it. "No, we are *tired* of you people. Pretending to run things, pretending to help, ruining out way of life."

"Then let us go and we'll get out of here," John replied pulling frantically at the manacles.  
  
"As a country? No, no, you will not. And yet, what is the British stomach for death? Smaller than the Americans." One of them gestured to the other for the camera. "Wait. You will say your name, and your rank, and anything you wish to communicate to your family. Then perhaps I will remove your tongue."

"Fuck off!" John snapped back. "I'm not saying anything for you." Not straight away because the moment they had what they wanted they could well kill him.

"Then we will say it for you. Smile for the camera. This is Captain John Hamish Watson, UK Military, Doctor. Do you have anything to say, Captain Watson?"

He elected to say nothing and damn them all. If they were going to do this he wasn't going to beg, not now. He had no illusions he might if he got to later, but they didn't seem that keen to keep him alive. The talker tsked, and gestured for the camera to be turned off. "In another day, you will lay there dripping blood, and swearing that we are giving you fine treatment. Tell me, do you have a wife, children?" 

"No I fucking don't," John retorted. "Let me go, you bastards!"

"Ah, single man, then. Did you think you were here to have your way with our women?" He reached across John, started to unbutton his shirt for him. "We will give you a few scars and then you will wait while we speak with your commander."

A few scars. He felt dizzy from nearly hyperventilating because nothing could really prepare you for this sort of thing. No course, no simulation could convey the gut clenching terror of being manacled down by captors who just really wanted to hurt you.

Because they could, because they had a grudge and there was no logicking out of that one, no way to squirm free. He pulled out a knife, surveying John's chest like a blank canvas.

He found himself just staring at him, the faint double vision of the concussion confusing him slightly as things felt weird and somehow surreal. He felt the pain of the cut, the first one -- it was deep and made him yell out, pulling at the chains. He might deny those words, but he couldn't hold back on noises of pain. There was no point to that. Not when they just kept cutting and cutting.

Blood, the smell of blood was thick and tangy in the air almost immediately as he felt the warm liquid spill over his skin from every slice. Dripping slow pain across his chest, no real pattern that he could work out -- just cuts, precise and straight, lined up so close that stitches would've been a mess if he'd had access to good care. 

Eventually it seemed they got bored or he wasn’t amusing enough when he couldn’t muster strength for even a decent groan. They backed up, unstrapped him then.

He was covered in blood and he couldn't seem to get his legs to work. He had no idea how long he had been there. His chest burned with pain and he was being dragged off the table.

Hauled up, back into the main room, through it to the first room where they'd started. The door was hardly open, and Sebastian was trying to rush them.

Unfortunately they tripped him up, literally by throwing him at Seb. He felt like a sack of potatoes slung through the air and the impact made everything fade for a moment from the jolt of pain.

"Fuck, fuck, c'mon, stay with me, John..." Seb caught him well, and he felt himself being lowered to the nearest mattress, helping through the pain, even as he saw them grab for Seb.

"No!" No he couldn't let Seb go into that, he couldn't, not Seb. He clutched at him. "Fuck."

He twisted, trying to fight them off, to get a leg under himself, but Sebastian was going to go down fighting, and they were moving faster in response.

He couldn't do anything, get anywhere except reach for Seb hopelessly as he was dragged out of the door with a shit load of guys trying to subdue him. And then he was alone in the dim light, losing blood and feeling a stunned sense of reality descending upon him. This was really happening...and there was nothing he could do about it.

It was happening. There was no magic solution to get out. There was no chance he could break the door down, and they were outnumbered. Survive, Evade, Resist and Extract was down to survive and resist.  
  
Unless there was a major screw up and sooner rather than later, there was no chance. Seb needed to get through this. Shit, what were they going to do to Seb?

He struggled to button his shirt back up, to smooth it out, to at least cover his skin before it got infected any worse than it already was. A first step. Survive.

* * *

His jaw was fucking killing him, and he was pretty sure he had a fractured rib by the time they secured him upright to what seemed like a really bloody cheap barstool. the fact that the table behind him was covered in blood, that he had blood transfer on him from John, that John had been bloody…

Not John, not his John. Of all the people for this to happen to… him he could understand. He signed up for harm’s way, but John…

There seemed to be a lot of blood, the place reeked of it.

He was sure that they weren't the first people to go through there nor would they be the last. "Colonel Sebastian Augustus Moran, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, 5th Battalion."

"Very good Colonel, without prompting as well," the man looked at him. "Your doctor was surprisingly obstinate to start with. After the first cut he was crying like a baby..."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He felt the pain when his jaw clenched automatically, and breathed through it. "There's no reason to keep us. I'm a friend to the Afghans."

"You are the worst of friends!" the man spat at him. "You are the friend who leads the faithful from the truth path with honeyed words and temptation. Who corrupts the holy word and spits on the name of Allah whilst feigning respect. We know your type, the most dangerous of our enemies!"

"You killed medics! You killed injured men and elders when you blew up the helicopter. We were having a peaceful shura, and your men opened fire!" There were a lot of stupid things Seb had done in his life, and it was a shame he was going to add trying to have a logical argument with terrorists to the list. "Fuck."

"And they deserved to die for allying with you," the man spat back and that was practically unheard of. You just did not attack when there was a shura. "You will serve our purpose as an example."

"Oh, will I?" He gestured to the camera with one restrained wrist, barely a movement at waist level. "If you think I'm going to beg for my life on film, you're bloody full of it."

"I believe you will beg… one way or another. Do you have a message for your family? Your wife or children before they see your destruction?"

He exhaled, staring at the man for a moment as a cold tightness settled into his chest. There was no bluffing his way out of it, no amount of bravado would save the day. And he wasn't going to beg, he wasn't. But oh Christ, he was going to die. He was going to die and he wasn't ready for it, no one was ever ready to die, there was no cold feeling of peace. Seb inhaled again.

"I love you, Becks. Give the kids a hug for me. I wish for nothing but peace to come to the people of Afghanistan." 

And just for a moment, the damn double vision and hazy blurring snapped sharp. It was a filthy blade, the edge worn and sharpened badly enough to chip what had once been a fine Damascus steel. Christ, he needed his eyes, he needed to be able to see. "No. No, don't. Don't!" He twisted on the stool, trying to tip it, trying to kick to get it to move away. 

They ignored him and then all he knew was pain, devastating and final and the incongruous sensation of something liquid trickling over his cheek, even as he bellowed out his protest. 

"An eye for an eye… a word of god that should not be forgotten," the man spat at him. 

He jerked hard at the manacles at his wrists, twisting and struggling because fuck, that hurt, that burned, that made his other eye close in shared pain that he was trying to fight down. Better to not see if the other one was going to be taken, he didn't want to see that blade again. Nothing, not even the explosion had hurt that much, knife wounds and animal claws, none of it compared. But he still managed to struggle out, gasping and not, not half-sobbing, no, "Christ, I will, fuck, I'll rip you apart, I'll…"

"And perhaps we'll take your other eye for that," he said. "Take him back. Perhaps they now realize we are serious."

"What the bloody fuck do you want from us?" He half howled it, and when his hands were free one of them snapped up to cover his eye, as if the pressure would help lessen the searing agony. Not that it would, because he was being man-handled up and couldn't keep his other eye open long enough to re-orient himself to the environment, couldn't tell where he was long enough to work out when he passed from one room to the other, never mind getting out and fuck, they needed to make their way out of there, they needed to escape immediately, there was nothing else, there was, they had to get out.

He barely registered, even as he tried to twist again, that they were throwing him back into the cell. He couldn't see what he was doing, everything blurred and stung and he fell into John as opposed to saw him.

"Oh thank god," John was clutching at him. "I thought they'd fucking killed you... what did they...oh...fuck."

"'s fine. It's okay." He kept his hand over his eye, leaning hard into John, trying to keep his head down, ducked down, as if that would fucking help, because nothing made that pain better. He'd had debris in his eyes before, and once quite hysterically a tiny leaf while he'd been waiting to take a shot, blinking desperately to get it out because he hadn't been able to move his hands, and it had eventually shifted and stuck irritatingly to his camo paint, except there was no blinking that shit out just then. "Ah, Christ."

"Hold still, I need to dress that," John said sounding shaky himself. "Need to, need to keep crap out of it."  
Seb inhaled hard, trying to get himself under control with breathing, and then heard himself laughing on the exhale. He couldn't get himself to move his hand away yet, cupped over it. "Might, fuck, might as well not bother."

"I'm the fucking doctor here," John mentioned with some force in his voice. "Gotta stop stuff... getting in there."

There was a ripping sound.

He was mostly sure he sat down, felt his back press against a wall as he tried to get himself together. There was still a pathetic urge to huddle in on himself, like it would fucking help. There was no getting his eye back, and the pain hadn't abated. "Christ, we've got to get out of here..."

"I know...I know," John answered. "Close both eyes Seb. It stops your bad eye moving involuntarily. It will help the pain a lot. It's the movement that causes pain in the eye." He was pulling him closer, into him.

He laughed then, but the inhale that followed had the edge of a sob, and leaning into John didn't help that any. John was hurt, too, and he hadn't been able to stop that, hadn't managed to get them to a better position, and hadn’t seen the fucking RPG, hadn't... "Sure." It wasn't like wet vision in the dark was any better than no vision at all.

"I'm sorry Seb...” John was murmuring as if somehow he was something to do with what happened to him.

Bullshit. He held his breath again for a moment, counted his exhale to try to feel calm enough to finally move his hand. "Not your fault." The daft thing was that he wondered what they *thought* was happening back at the base.

"I know I just should be able to help you and I can't. I've got nothing, “John murmured. There was a shift of sound and John seemed to be affixing something around his injured eye carefully. "It won't do much but it will stop more crap getting in there.”

Great. He shifted, leaning into John when he settled back in. The next time that door opened, he didn't know what they'd do to John. But he knew what they’d do to him, and without two eyes, life as he was used to living it was pretty much fucking shot. "There's four of them all total."

"I saw the rooms," John said. "Two rooms, saw an additional exit in the second one, in the upper right 

"Maybe subsistence." Seb caught himself halfway to trying to cover his eye again, even with both eyes closed. He exhaled shakily. "Door opens again, I distract them and you run." 

"I can't fucking run anywhere at the moment," John huffed. "Okay, look, I'm damn sure you can fight better than I can even badly hurt."

They were close enough that he could feel John's huff against the side of his neck, and Seb shifted, eyes still shut. "Substitute 'try to kill them bare handed' for distract."

"Okay, look, I know you're feeling pretty fucking suicidal right now," John said forcefully. "But I need you to stay alive, I need you to get out without dying because we could be in the goddamn middle of nowhere, and wherever the hell we are, I need someone who knows the country to get me out.”  
He hesitated a moment and then added. "We've got to be smart about this. Flinging yourself at them is not going to do it."

He was quiet in response, because eventually, the pain had to be less blinding. Logically. Logically, that was right, which meant he'd be able to open his other eye again at least long enough to be functional. "I don't have another plan. We have no tools. Door swings out, not in, so that, fuck, couldn't even use that."

"Then minimising the attack.” John murmured. "What would be the best way of you neutralizing them without either of us getting killed? Luring them all in?"

The room was a big of a rectangle, so Seb supposed that might work. Door on the side with less to one end, them on the other. They'd be risking space and one or the other of them getting 'caught' but if they could get out and shut the door behind them it would work quite well. "Could do. One of us could play dead. Throw them off their schedule, bring them in."

"Wouldn't be hard to do," John said murmuring to him. "Could we...make something to stumble them? I don't know maybe… mattress. I was trying to think of like a trip wire thing but that won't work. But something suddenly behind them...or I don't know."

"If it stops them getting out, it'll stop us, too." And the only think he was sure of was that they needed to move fast, now, as soon as possible because it was going to get worse and they were quickly going to  
find themselves more debilitated.

"Good point," John started thinking. "So, which way around is better? You apparently unconscious? Me creating a fuss? "

The exchanged whispers were low, barely words, and still felt too loud for Seb. "It'll put you closer to the door, and they might ignore you." Seb knew they wouldn't ignore him, but he could fight. Would fight. Fuck. "Just give it a reasonable amount of time." 

"I'll make up some medical shit," John murmured, still holding him. He could feel him run a shaking hand through his hair. "I'll think on that."

"I'll just play dead." He shifted a hand, clutched loosely at John's side. "Glad you weren't in the helo."

"Yeah..." John gave a faint almost strangled sound. "Yeah, me too."

Seb stayed quiet then. If nothing else he could rest for a while.

* * *

His chest burned with pain, with every breath. He was lucky not to lose more blood than he had but he felt shaky enough as it was. But he hadn't lost an eye, not like Seb.

He had lain there holding him for some time and finally came up with a way to have a reason to go effectively hysterical. When they were ready, he smeared a load of blood from his top, around Seb's face and eye and then completely went for a freak out, yelling and shouting that Seb was having a hemorrhage, maybe even a brain hemorrhage. He was expecting to be ignored for a while and he was, and he kept it up, despairing and near hysteria.

It wasn't very hard to feel either of those things, because his hands were probably next, and Seb's other eye, and it was downhill from there. There was nothing subtle about what they were doing. "You are lying scum of a doctor," he heard from outside of the door, as one bar was lifted slowly.

"You're too late," he made it a sob. "If you'd fucking come earlier...I...I could have...maybe I could have save him. Butchers! You tore the back of his ocular socket. It...Hemorrhaged... I didn't notice...I didn't fucking notice until he passed out... And then you fucking ignored me. Well fuck you! Fuck all of you. At least you can't hurt him anymore!"

And for a moment he completely believed what he was saying. Believed that Seb was dead, that he might have been able to save him and he had bled out in his arms.

And they rushed right past him then, towards Seb's completely unmoving form, because he had been right, Seb was the important target. One of them started to move as if he were going to pick Seb up, but he didn't respond yet. Fuck, and that was a heartbreaking moment of waiting until Seb sat up and punched the first man hard in the nose, scrambling to his feet.

He was meant to run but he couldn't. He swung hard with intent to disable, kill if he could on the back of the neck visualizing the weak point in the vertebrae of one of them. He was almost completely astonished when it worked. He blinked a little and then saw one of the others pulling a gun to use on Seb and just grabbed for his arm.

He didn't expect that the man would pull the trigger as John pulled at his arm, or how loud the sound of a shot would be in that small space.

Somehow he went down, but he still had a hold of the gun and his weight pulled it out of the man’s hand. He almost couldn't believe it. That they hadn't even thought about, even considered. He scrabbled with it and then didn't even stop to warn anyone just shot the bastard and then turned to shoot again.

Seb was choking one, which made shooting the man a bad idea, but he sighted on and killed the fourth with a shot to the face.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," John managed. His left arm was hanging weirdly and he guess maybe he'd been hit by the bullet. Couldn't be too badbecause it didn't hurt that much. Time to worry about that later.

Seb seemed determined to kill the last one by strangulation, but dropped him as soon as he started fighting. "Let's see if there's a truck we can jack. Jesus, your arm..."

"Take the gun. Still bet you can shoot straighter." John said as they moved. He ignored his arm...but he went to see what he could get off the other guy he had dropped. Another gun, anything in pockets. Might be keys or something.

Seb took the gun, while John rifled pockets one handed. It was shocking how much energy that had taken, but they both needed to keep moving. He found keys, which was good, and Seb was in the main room, swiping the small camcorder and a laptop up with his free hand. 

"Can you see my med gear?" he whispered in a low voice. They would need it, almost more than a bloody vehicle. Second room exit, they needed to move. If there were others here then they would be coming.

There was a rough duffle stuffed with gear that was UK camo, and Seb shouldered that as well. "Get behind me, I'll go first."

Right now he was willing to do that, feeling strangely numb and disassociated. He had a gun out and he was determined to keep up. "Yes sir,” he said automatically because Seb was in Colonel mode and he had enough army in him to recognize an order.

He checked that John was behind him, and then cracked the door, peering out, turning his head to look from side to side. "Christ, it’s clear. Truck at 2." He started towards it in a jog.

He tried to follow, feeling a bit leaden and breathless in his movement. He tried a jog and it turned into a near stumble. Still, fear made him keep going. 

Seb was pulling the back door open, holding it. "Get in, get in... Lay down. We'll put some distance on. There's a radio on there, I can hear it."

He almost literally fell into the vehicle, taking stock in a detached way of what was in there. Jesus, water, they'd need that even if there was snow. He had no fucking idea where they were but they just needed to get the hell out of there. "Go, go...I'm in, go...”

Seb got in the front, shut the creaky heavy door, and started it up with the key John had grabbed. He pulled out, glancing up at the sky, as they headed down what felt to John like a horribly bumpy slick road. He wasn't sure what the speed was, but it felt like too much.

He was being bounced around all over the goddamn place, and this was not the best time to wonder exactly how much Seb could actually see, but they needed to get away and they were sure as hell running hard. The icy conditions, bitingly cold did not help but there were at least some things in the truck they could use. He glanced at his arm for the first time and realized he hadn't just been nicked by the bullet. That set him to swearing as he tried to wedge a pad of material against the area and made himself feel very sick with pain.

There was a tourniquet loose in the gear bag, but it wouldn't do John any good, the shot was his shoulder, not really an extremity. The trauma bandage was hard to open one handed, but Seb was driving on determinedly, and they were going downhill.

"Jesus Seb," John said. "I don't want to escape to be killed in a car crash...” He slapped on the bandage trying to follow where the hell they were going.

"Can you throw me that radio?" He felt the vehicle start to slow a little, but it was still rattling along. There was a road, or a bath, but the truck was narrow enough to manage it. 

"Yeah, hold. Hold on.” He reached it forward, conscious of the blood all over them both.

Seb reached for it, grabbed it and pulled it into the seat with him, fussing with it one handed. "We'll be good. We'll put some distance, and see where the fuck we are."

"We could be anywhere," John said. "Anything...shit..." The bloody bandage was not wanting to stay on. "Anything look even remotely familiar?"

"No, and I doubt we're anywhere in a decent range for contact. Fuck. Fucking BOWMAN." He seemed to be keeping his eyes -- shit, eye, eye -- on the road, while John sprawled out in the back seat and mostly focused on breathing. "Fuck, okay, what did you have on you?"

He blinked a bit. "When we were captured? Normal med stuff and some extras I usually pack. Dressings, antiseptics, first aid triage stuff. If you got my kit, morphine and some real help. Meds and patch up stuff."

"Okay. Okay, and I had ammo and my rifle, they're still in the back of the truck, I had fuck, what did I have? Shit." He could hear Seb drumming his hands on the steering wheel. "Can you time me thirty minutes? This hurts like shit. Got cardinal direction, we're heading south, south west."

"Okay, thirty minutes." He could stay awake that long. "We need to stop and patch ourselves up. Get fluids in us." 

He grabbed for the bag, wanting to inventory what was there. See if the truck had any of their stuff in it they could use. He looked at the time. Nearly 4 in the afternoon. It would get dark sooner now it was winter.

"I just want more distance. We're probably three, four hours from the base, if we're headed in the right direction. I think we are." John could find pieces of his medical kit in the bag, and worked out the other parts were probably in the back of the truck if Seb's gun was back there. 

"Gonna get dark soon enough," John said. "Not going to make it back in one go and driving at night in the fucking snow over unfamiliar terrain is asking for trouble.

"Give me thirty minutes, and we'll get off the main road and find somewhere to hide. We can't stop now."  
Yeah he knew that, it was just lasting that long. He just inventoried what they had in an attempt to stay awake.

* * *

Setting a fire was too much of a risk, Seb knew, so they huddled up in the back seat of the truck under the thermal blanket that made too much noise for his sanity. It was hard to keep watch with one eye open, literally, but they needed to try to be alert. *He* needed to try to be alert, because John had lost so much blood.

He'd kept going, until they stopped and had carefully mopped, cleaned and treated their injuries and then it was if someone had snapped the tension that had kept him going and he just needed to lie down, panting a little to get his breath back. As he'd said at the time, it was nothing that a few packs of whole blood wouldn't sort out. John was half lying on him as they needed to share heat.

He heard the blanket crackle as John shifted. "Mm."

Not that it was a bloody hardship, and not that he needed an excuse to lay around with John. Well, no, he usually did but that was propriety and just then fuck propriety. "Hmn?"

"Can't sleep," John mumbled. "Can't wake up properly either. Fucking everything hurts."  
But he'd given him some morphine for his eye on the principal one of them had to be fit to drive.

Not that he was driving just then. "Yeah. You'll be okay." Seb shifted in a little, pulled at John carefully. They fit together well. John always seemed to find the most comfortable way to drape around him.

"I've got a ration bar thing. Did you eat?" John asked after another long pause.

"Jaw hurts." He'd tried to chew before, just a bite broken off, but the movement made his eye and his face hurt and it wasn't worth the effort. He swallowed spit, and added, "Not that it seems to shut me up."  
John seemed to give a faint smile at that. "Yeah, I noticed. Do we...have a plan?"

No. No, not at all. Nothing like. Seb curled fingers at the back of John's head, scritching gently through his hair. "We keep driving. South, southwest is the right direction. We'll eventually come across one of Rahim's strongholds, or our base. Or we'll get taken out by a UAV. When we get daylight, I'll put the old V on the roof."

"I love your optimism," John replied. "I'm loading us up with antibiotics, but we need to get to a hospital as soon as possible. Especially you. "

Not that it mattered. It'd just rot away the longer it hung out in his eye. Infection was probably the worst of it, but he'd been reluctant to let John get too into it, and John had been reluctant to introduce anything to his eye that could make it worse. The pain was still unbelievably bad, because it was all there and working. Or trying to. "Says the man with a bullet that blew through his shoulder."

"Still in there. Otherwise I would have probably bled out," John answered pragmatically. "We've got to make sure you don't get a full on infection in there. That could be really dangerous.Short cut right down the optic nerve to the brain."

"As soon as we get sunlight, we go." Seb shrugged his shoulders, and tried to slouch into himself, around John. "Can't move faster than that."

John shifted himself. "I'd kill for a cup of tea right now," he said literally trying to get skin to skin.  
  
Seb shifted, pressed his cheek against John's forehead. He felt clammy, and overwarm. "Galaxy bar."

"Trust you to go for the chocolate. You and your not so secret sweet tooth," John answered. "Bacon butty...”

"With a nice stilton." Seb mouthed a kiss against John's forehead, but he mostly tasted like dirt and antiseptic. "Imagine what the food fantasies would be like if we were more than a day or two out, eh?"

"Christ yeah," John agreed. He was quiet again for a while and then said "For a moment...I convinced myself you had died Seb.”

"I'm not dead." He just really wasn't thinking about it, wasn't really weighing in the fact that his eye was all fucked up. It was too real and solid pain just then to really do much mental modeling with.

"Thank god." John seemed to drift a little. "What...are our odds that we'll get back?" It was a sudden calm question.

"Full tank of gas," Seb murmured. "We're not being actively pursued. We're armed." They didn't have enough food and chewing hurt. Water was limited. "We'll make it.

"And if they do actively pursue us?" he replied. "Someone will be looking."  
It was a relatively high probability.

"Then I'm going to be shooting like a rank amateur infantryman, with one eye closed." Seb twitched his fingers a little, rubbing. "Health is our biggest threat."

"I should tape your eye shut to relieve stress on it," John replied in a low voice. "We could do with more hot fluids...I suspect we could have shock."

"We're low on water. You need it more." Seb closed his other eye, mostly focused on listening. "We'll get there today."

"Gonna put myself on a saline drip when we're on the move," John replied. "I've got one in the kit. If I'm going to be any use tomorrow I have to get the blood pressure up." He sighed a little. "Can you get any sleep? I don't think I'm going to be able to."

"Face hurts." Seb gave a shaky laugh. "Hard to do more than doze. It's all right." 

"Sod it, I'm going to put the drip up now," John said shifting to rustle under the blanket. "I've been warming it down my trousers, should be okay." He started to lean up a bit unhooking the small bag, and then hanging it from a roll bar. He managed a bit awkwardly to put the needle in before settling back. "Sorry."

"Should I be disappointed you had a saline drip down your trousers, but I didn't notice?" Seb barely managed to not smile too much, squirmed in as close as he was to keep warm.

John smiled a little. "That's a doctor’s chat up line," he replied settling back. "Warm enough?"

"Decent, yeah." He'd stuffed a crack in the glass, and they were protected from wind, most of the heat staying in the truck with them. His head was still killing him, his eye hurt, and there was still a touch of blurred vision. But they'd make it through. It was too far to give up then.

John seemed to be holding in here, seemed to be holding it together. He was trying not to think about anything except getting them back to safety.

"Seb..." John murmured after a while. "I...” He seemed to lose his battle for what he was going to say and fell silent again.

He let the silence stretch, maybe dozed for a while. "Hmm?"

"I. Thought I'd lost the chance to say it so I wanted to say it now. I uh...” John cleared his throat. "I'm pretty sure I've fallen for you okay? As in...fuck...it's not just sex. "

He shifted one hand, pressed it a little against the fabric of John's uniform. "I'm kind of shit at just sex. So, uh. This is still bad timing, but. Yeah. We're going to get back, though, okay?"

"I just… I'm not good at saying it." John seemed relieved at his reaction. "No time like the present."

Especially when he had thought he had lost the time to say it. Maybe he was worse off than he thought.

"We'll get back, okay?" It scared him to consider that, because hey, John had a bullet in him. No medical care worth talking about. He nudged his mouth against John's forehead again, as if that would help. "And we'll do something stupid and scandalous in the hospital, all right? It's Germany."

"Yeah okay...” John exhaled and he closed his eyes. "Won't be worse than what goes on in the staff room."

He shifted, tightened his arms a little. It was too long to daylight, and so much more road to go.

* * *

John was really, really making serious recommendations for more morphine to be packed as standard in med kits. He was hording it, using it for Seb so he could drive because he sure as hell couldn't.  
  
They didn't have long before infection set in properly. He had share out the broad spectrum antibiotics they were both taking and they would help but there weren't many of those either.

Right now the bounce of the truck was akin to being repeatedly poked with a red hot iron in the shoulder, and he wanted to vomit with each jolt.

And John had to wonder how much further they could get before gas ran out. Then, then they'd probably die. Seb seemed confident and calm and was trying the radio at regular intervals now that they'd been driving for another few hours.

He blinked as he stared out of the window. The drip had helped some but he was still a bit blurry so it took him a moment to realize he was seeing something over to their left. "Seb, livestock...” he pointed out, the words sounding a bit slurry.

Livestock meant human beings...good or bad.

Seb tilted his head briefly, but kept driving on the faint road they were already following. "Great. You want to try the piece of shit BOWMAN again?"

"Yeah." John fished it out awkwardly. He'd managed to instruct Seb in how to strap his arm and immobilize it the best he could but it meant it was completely out of action. Fiddling with the radio one handed was not easy and it took a lot of mucking about with it as he turned it on.

Immediately there was a loud burst of Pashtun dialect that came through on the default channel. 

Seb seemed to be listening, even as John turned it down so it was a little less deafening. He could understand every fourth, fifth word, which probably wasn't helping since he was crap with verbs. But it sounded...

"That's a bolo if I ever heard one. Two injured Americans in a stolen truck." 

"So, not away completely scot free after all," John replied, feeling a surge of dread and adrenaline at the thought of being captured again.

"What channel are our guys likely to be using?" 

"Six. It's secure. I'm offended that they think we're Americans. Why couldn't they think we're Canadians, or Aussies?" John swapped over to six, and caught a vague transmission noise. It was worth trying to get information out, then.

"This is Captain John Watson to any receiving allied units, do you read?" he spoke into the radio. He was keeping an eye out as they trundled down slippery track. He repeated the hail several times, listening to the crackle and hiss of the radio channel.

They were in the shadow of the mountains; sound warped back to him briefly, and he tried the hail again, and again, hoping for garble to resolve to noise. "I know where we are," Seb offered, as they eased onto a flat.

"Where?" John asked. "And it would be good if the answer was about ten minutes from base."  
"Close. Fifty minutes, give or take. If the road isn't rigged." He watched Seb shift his hands on the steering wheel. "And we have to drive through the nearest village. If you could keep trying the radio, I'd rather not try that as we are." 

"Mmm, don't want to tackle a hotspot," John started radioing again. "Captain John Watson calling any allied forces, do you read?" He repeated the message over and over.  
  
They had to get through, they were too damn close not to.

Finally, something came back. "Copy, base station 1. Status of personnel, over." Shit, he needed to remember the proper protocol.

It took a bit of stumbling because he wasn't at his best even with a little of the meds he had, and he needed some input from Seb to know the protocol to prove their identities but it eventually he was able to give a status report.

"Personnel injured, in transit towards base. Support required." This was not the time to feel dizzy. 

"Location?"

"Twenty clicks outside of the village on way to post." Seb leaned back a little, speaking for John, and reaching for the radio. "Gas is low, and the road we're about to move onto is known to be insecure. Please advise."

"Hostiles reported active in that area. Search pattern likely for your vehicle. Can you cross country to the South road and we can arrange extraction? Please advise."

There had to be a lot of activity for them to not want to move troops to that village. Obviously their captors had not done an active pursuit because they had essentially tried to net them at the other end and just radioed it through.

Seb hesitated, even as they drove onward. "We'll try. Unsure if we have sufficient petrol if we are delayed."

"Understood. Will advise further. Mobilizing a helo."

John wasn't sure if that was extraction or to provide them cover.” He looked at Seb. “How far is the south road from here?"

"Further than I'm comfortable with," Seb murmured. He shifted, got a hold of his gun. "Shit, I won't have a clear shot at anything."

"Jesus." John wasn't sure he could even walk let alone run if he had to. "Fuck."  
He had to be upbeat about this. "I know we can do it."

"Brace yourself, I'm going off road in this piece of shit." He didn't give John too much warning, and started to veer off of the narrow trail.

If the road had been bad, off road was fucking agony. Even strapped up his shoulder responded to the jolting, making him retch with pain. It was only the fact they hadn't eaten and drunk enough that meant there was nothing to throw up. He was trying to stay aware, with it for Seb but was finding it very hard. 

Even when, a few minutes later, he heard the sound of another vehicle. "Shit, get down..." He dropped in the front seat, fumbling for the gun he had. He needed to be able to return fire if necessary. Damn it. Seb was driving like a mad thing.

With a rifle in one hand, and a steering wheel in the other. "Shooting to the right..."

He was trying to line up on the source of gun fire, to be ready and prepared and holy crap they were closer than he thought. He barely ducked in time as the window smashed.

"Fuck!" Seb turned, partially breaking as he lined up a shot and took it over top of John, deafening him. The other vehicle veered wildly to the left.

That was a hell of a shot and Seb had done it by instinct. He popped up and fired again at them but the other truck had spun out not help by the wind-blown snow lying in thin slippery layers over the terrain. "Fuck... I think you got the driver," he said barely able to hear his own voice.

"Ughn, Christ, there's a reason why shooting like Rambo's a bad fucking idea..." Seb kept his arm down after that, and was still steering one handed as he drove on. "Any others?"

"Can't see any... damn it." He was having trouble focusing though the adrenaline had numbed the pain. "They will have radioed our position though."

"And more will be coming." Seb reached to take the radio from John. "Colonel Moran and Captain Watson to base. We've been engaged by hostiles, and expect more."

"Roger Colonel Moran, helo in the air."

That was good news. The flash of light from the sun reflecting on another windshield heading their way was not so good.

"God dammit." He racked the next round, and John was ready to get down again. "Hang in, all right?" He veered a little, but John was starting to recognize the terrain as well. Seb was not going to be deterred in getting to the south road.

The fuel gauges was well into the empty and he just prayed they would get there before it ran out. Fuck. This time he did fire back but he just wasn't accurate enough with one arm and as woozy as he was.  
  
He just needed to stay up and alert, and he kept telling himself that. 

"Fuck. Fuck..." Seb twisted and shouldered his gun again, a knee against the steering wheel. Fired again, loudly.

John wasn't sure if he'd hit dead on like last time but the truck swerved badly, and he managed to fire as well. It seemed to discourage them at least, off into some sort of ditch. He could see the road now as they bounced around randomly in the rough terrain.

"Jesus." Seb was breathing hard as he racked another bullet, still speeding. "Ah, Christ, I think that got my shoulder out. Fuck."

"Nearly there..." John murmured and then grabbed the radio. "Approaching South Road position. ETA requested."

Nothing. No response, not even a crackle. John could hear the chopper noises, though, off in the distance. They were actually going to make it. John dared to start hoping that they might just get through this. Right up to the point he felt their truck slow. And rattle, and then stop. Seb threw it into park, as if it would help them, and shouldered his gun grunting with pain. "Colonel Moran to base, eta requested, we have run out of petrol."

"One minute out Colonel. Hold in there...”

Sit tight or run for it? Could he run for it even if he wanted to?

Seb's jaw was clenched tight, as he turned in the seat, and looked behind them. "Get out, I'll cover you. You keep the engine block between yourself and them, all right."

This was not the time to bring up the fact he might not be able to actually walk. John just went with trying to bullshit his body into working. He slid out, and his knees were like jelly as he tried to use the stability of the jeep to keep him upright. His head started swimming and he was panting, fighting the fact that the blood loss was more obvious standing than sitting. "Clear."

Seb moved around to stand beside him, no cover, no, no sanity in it, one arm awkward, and gun held in the hand he didn't have an eye to match. They could see the vehicle tracking, and now he could hear the helo better. It was just a matter of hoping they didn't have the firepower in their vehicle to want to take on a gunship.

He even had the fucking bag there, like he was insanely capable of carrying everything in the world. His legs were starting to fail him, shaking as if his bones were crumbling internally. His vision tunneled a little and he clutched at Seb in a vague panic.

"C'mon, stay up..." He leaned against the front of the jeep, resting his gun on the hood to steady himself. That was a good idea, yeah, yeah, that was a great idea...

His blood pressure was dropping, he could figure that. He tried, cold sweat breaking out all over, clamminess and his body telling him he just couldn't ignore what had happened any more. The roaring in his ears was so loud he didn't hear the helo coming down to land. He was too busy wondering when he had lost contact with most of his extremities as the grey in his peripheral vision started a creep inwards.

"John! John, god dammit -- we need help over here!" Seb's voice sounded loud, hoarse, and there was the sound of gunfire, but John wasn't sure whose or where or direction because he was down on the ground, a hand clinging desperately to the hood.

He just needed to get a grip. He shook his head trying to clear it gasping for breath, getting a bit back. This was no time not to be watching Seb's back. "Fuck, Seb..."

"C'mon, c'mon..." Another shit, another shot, and the noise was loud before he heard the machine guns of the helo kick in, finally, finally. And a new voice.

"Into the helo, here, I've got him..."

"'m okay..." he mumbled. "Blood… blood loss. Seb's eye, need to, it'll be infected." It was important to tell someone this even as he was pretty much dragged on board.

“We’ll see to it Doc, don’t worry,” he heard even as he finally stopped clinging to consciousness.

* * *

The flight from Kabul to the hospital had been a quiet, disturbing hell that he remembered in bits and pieces. He'd lost a lot of time in there, but it seemed distantly like a hellraiser movie, pain and sedation making everything surreal. The hospital wasn't much better, in and out of surgery, with other officers asking questions of him.

And now that he was aware and felt semi alert, transferred again to Selly Oak, the sub thing they had in Birmingham -- he'd checked, because that was a hell of a thing, not even knowing what bloody country he was in- for repatriation.  
  
The worse thing was he hadn't really managed to see much of John because it seemed when he was being debriefed, John wasn't and vice versa. But they were both here and people talked about going home as if that was going to solve everything.

Except that life as he knew it was over.

He didn't know what he was going to do, now that his military career was over. There really *wasn't* anything to do.  
  
He'd put that out of his mind when they had been trying to escape, still in the dizzy glow of actually escaping. Things became immediate and moment by moment.  
  
There was no hope for his eye that had been obvious from the start. They were frankly amazed he had been upright and moving with it and that it wasn't in a worse state.  
  
But, it was gone now. He was really tempted to get out of bed, and get to the latrine to find a mirror and see just what they'd done under the sterile dressings he could feel with his fingers.

"Colonel Moran?" Dr Haywood entered the room. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Awake." He sat up a little straighter in bed. He'd dislocated his shoulder as well, and the stabilizing sling was probably nothing on what they'd done to John's shoulder.

"Well that's a start. Anyway, partial good news, you're off of the need to be monitored so rigorously now we've cleared the infection from your system, so you are allowed to leave your room as you wish.

"Good. I'll take the good news I can get, then." He hadn't really talked to anyone, but the forty bloody debriefers. Not even his sister, and he was mostly avoiding the news. In between bouts of unconsciousness, it hadn't been too hard to avoid the news. "Captain Watson up for visitors?"

The doctor smiled. "Yes, he is allowed some limited trips out of his room as well...possibly because he has been insisting."

"Good! Good. He's a doctor, so he's got to make a shitty patient." Seb shifted to start to see if he could get a move on. Someone had helpfully left him a pair of PT shorts, but he'd still have to one hand them. They were still in the service, even if he knew it wasn't going to last.

"I've seen worse," Dr Haywood said with a faint smile. "You have a therapy appointment tomorrow by the way. I'll leave the details here later...I just heard them scheduling it.

"Therapy?" He stopped, still leaning against the edge of the mattress. "For what?"

"It's standard after being a hostage and in that sort of situation," he replied. "I assume it's that."

"Christ. Waste of time." He stayed where he was, and leaned with his good arm -- on the side he couldn't see -- to snag the PT shorts. "All right, thank you. Anything else?"

"Not unless you want additional painkillers," the doctor replied. "We'll be doing rounds again before dinner."

"No, I'm fine." He gave the man a bit of a look, waiting for him to leave.

"Good. The consultant will be around later," he said and finally left. Thank God. He could finally get out of the room, a bit of freedom from the nurses and doctors who all treated him like some sort of IED.  
  
Fuck, and what was he supposed to say to them? Yeah, he was fine. Anything to get them to go away, because he didn't want to be debriefed in a kind and caring way, he didn't want fucking therapy, and while they all wanted to 'help' no one wanted to actually do anything that would help because there wasn't anything to be done.

He needed to call his sister eventually. And make a good shot at re-connecting to reality.

Going out beyond his door was weird. He found himself surprised at people appearing on his right periphery and it made him nervy. But mainly, he wanted to find John. The doctors had answered his questions with vague platitudes of "doing well" or "fine" when he asked.

Not at all helpful. If it was true, a bit more detail would be good -- and if it was a lie, why? He closed his eye tightly, braced himself against the wall briefly before he went down to the next bit and knocked on the door. The whole place was full of wounded, people a lot worse than him.

John's expression most likely looked a little like his did expecting yet another nurse to come in, but his face lit up recognizing it was him. "Seb, thank god, get your ass in here."

"And how've you been?" He grinned a little, wandering in toward John, who looked like he was sitting up by dint of pillows.

"Pretty shite," John said bluntly leaning forward a little and reaching out with his right arm in a way that showed that he was expecting direct contact of a hug at a minimum. 

Yeah, he could do that. They were both one armed, and it was awkward as hell for a moment until Seb turned his head in a little, and kissed his neck. "Ugh, that's an unappealing taste."

"Yeah, they keep swabbing me with antiseptic. I'd kill for a shower," John said he was clutching tight.

"Yeah, I bet that's a no go." He leaned into the bed better, holding tight to John with his one arm. Fuck. The sense of relief was... Unexpected. "We made it."

"Jesus, we really did," John answered. "I seriously have no idea how we are alive."

"Luck?" Seb had his eye closed again, and it was a little less disorienting as he held onto John. Jesus. He shifted again, but the bed was too fucking narrow. "How are you?"

"Wondering what the hell I'm going to do next," John said. "Now I've apparently got a next. And I'm completely fucked up unless I'm sleeping on drugs."

"There's been sleeping without drugs?" Seb scoffed it as he pressed his nose against John's neck. "Yeah, same. Jesus. Haven't even got a flat right now, I stayed in housing last time we were home."

"Yeah, same here.” John exhaled. "I've got nerve damage in the shoulder. I'm never going to be able to do detailed complex surgery."

And that had been his dream, his plan, Seb knew that.

When he left the service, he was going to become head of surgery somewhere. "GP work?" He pulled back a little, still holding on to John. "I never considered being out, retired. I was trying to hang in for stars."

"Yeah. Depending on how the physio goes, I might make a casualty surgeon, but they weren't hopeful," he said. "So what have they told you about the eye?"

"Oh, it's gone. More surgery to follow, but they took it out. It was by all accounts like a dry, crunched ping pong ball." He reached up to tap the sterile pad that was covering the injury. "I'm on enough antibiotics that eating isn't a great idea."

"I was worried about that," John said, reaching up to touch his cheek near the pad. "Terrified really. So close to your optic nerve and that's a direct link to the brain. I thought you'd get an infection."

"Yeah, well. There might have been. I don't remember much since we got on the transport. Last day's been pretty sharp." It might've been the concussion, concussions, catching up to him. "But I'm here."

"I remember too much. It keeps replaying in classic post-traumatic stress flash backs," John replied. "Don't remember how you screwed your arm as well though." He was trying very awkwardly to move over to make room for Seb to sit with him.

Seb shifted. "Oh, shooting like a bloody action hero. Tore some muscles. That's not how you shoulder a gun."

"It was fucking amazing though," John said. "I told them that in the debrief. You were an action hero Seb."

"Messed up tendons," he scoffed. "You snapped me out of a bit of a hysterical moment. So. Thank you."

"You had a hysterical moment?" John seemed confused at that. "I don't remember that?"

"When I got back to the cell, after..." He shrugged his shoulders. That moment seemed so distant, but he still remembered it. "I was going to give up."

"I would have done if you didn't come back alive," John replied in a serious and completely frank tone. "But you were alive and...I stopped lying there bleeding out."

But if it had been either one of them alone there... No, Seb didn't think he would have gotten out. As a corpse, maybe. He shifted, curling his good arm around John again, because he could, even as they sat side by side. Right eye gone, right arm functional. "We're a mess."

"Yeah. Completely," John answered, obviously happy to relax into him. "I keep...I mean, I've never killed anyone before and I keep seeing that bit in the room over and over." 

It was easy to sit like that, comfortable. If he thought he could have gotten away with it, he would have laid down. "You hadn't?" It surprised him a little, because John had been quick, and unhesitatingly. But then again, he was a doctor. Not exactly home of the killing arts.

"I've fired a weapon before in anger, but never killed anyone face to face. If I'm out there I'm… well, to be honest, I'm usually dealing with wounded, not engaging in the firefight," John grimaced. "I've seen death and plenty of it but… I've never been the one pulling the trigger to cause it before now. It's… it just replays. That bit replays more than virtually any other. Which is weird because you'd think the earlier bit would."

"One was out of your control, and the other was at least something you could impact." The only thing he regretted from that moment was clearly that the man he'd choked out had lived to radio ahead for reinforcements. That or their allies had swung back to check on them and found the four corpses. He'd have to check with someone on what the final body count had been, if they'd ever gotten back to the scene to secure it. Likely not. "I overheard one of the nurses discussing the media coverage."

"Oh god, really? What were they saying?" John asked sounding like he was dreading it. Media coverage was inevitable with this sort of thing, and the shooting down of the medievac would have added a sensational dimension to it, as well as the capture and then subsequent escape that would have had it splash over the news in all its gory details.

"I might try to get a copy of the daily mail. Just rip that bandaid off," Seb uttered. Because, shit, they'd have the worst coverage. "Your sister get a hold of you?"

"Speak or scream down the phone?" John said. "I was off my face with drugs and she was incoherent...so not very successful. How about you?"

"No. Not yet." Becks and he had a... it was strange, though he supposed that was how most sibling relationships were, framed around and against the background of all interactions with their father. He was a black sheep by nature, and it was something he was comfortable with. "She tends to give me space when I need it."

"I'll swap you for Harry," John replied immediately. "She is...erratic to say the least.” 

"What was she yelling for?" Becks probably just didn't know... Know what to say. He didn't know what to think himself, because Christ. He'd been a hunter and a shooter since he was wee, then a sniper. He'd always, always known he wanted to go military, to do that for a living. And now... there wasn't much to say. It wasn't a topic anyone probably wanted to broach with him. "And no, you can't have my sister."

"Harry would yell just. Well just because," he said with a shrug on one side. "I think she was berating me for going out in the field. I'm not sure."

"Hmn." Seb shifted his hand a little, comfortable that close in to John, just sitting there. It felt almost like relaxing, like he could let his guard down a little. "Sorry, I'm trying to not say anything bad about your sister."

"You can if you want," John said. "I love her, she's my sister but she gets right on my wick most of the time."

"You did the right thing by my assessment." He closed his eye for a moment, because it felt tired and strained. "Christ. My RTO lived. Not sure if they told you. He's here, I should swing down and visit. "

"He did?" John seemed surprised at that and he slung his working arm around him. 

"Yeah. I sort of expected them to shoot him after they knocked us out, but it just winged him, apparently." It was all just catching up, boring, normal, and there was an undercurrent of fuck, now what?

"That's good news at least. I lost. We lost good men when they shot down the helo." he said.  
  
And now they couldn't even help. They couldn't fix things, they weren't there for the... the readjustment. It was lacking something, left it hollow and strange for Seb. 

"We did." And allies, elders he'd carefully worked with, leadership in various villages. Gone. Christ. And it didn't matter, someone else was doing his job and someone else was doing John's job.

Fuck. It didn't matter.

"Do you think anyone saw what they filmed?" John asked in a quiet voice. "Publicly?"  
He managed a laugh, quiet, turned his head to actually look at John. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Call it a hunch, but they had that laptop out, with an air card in it when we left. And the video camera. Intel got it all, but congratulations. We're probably part of the exploitation process."

"Fuck." John swore to himself. "Fuck.” He looked stricken at that.

"Yeah." He shifted his hand a little, rubbed fingers along John's spine. "Fuck. Not my finest moment."

"Definitely not mine," John replied. He grimaced and shook his head. "Dammit."

"Yeah. The urge to go... see how bad it is. To." Seb waved his hand. "I mean, I'd like to know how much is out there."

"I hate that I wasn't even remotely stoic," John answered, and he really did look embarrassed about that. "God, what if Harry saw it?"

"Honestly, I can go make threats if I need to," he offered blandly, fingers still moving a little, halfway to comforting. He hoped. "Christ, what's it to her?"

"It'll be the biggest melodrama ever. She'll show all her friends...and their friends, and relatives and there would be some sort of traumatic blog..." John sounded genuinely distressed at that. "Christ."

"Your sister's a bit weird, yeah?" Seb tilted his head a little, watching the honest distraught expression on John's face. "Mine's more. She'll have seen it, but she'll be pretending she hasn't?"

"I still want to swap sisters," John practically groaned. "Damn it. I'd like to meet your sister. She sounds much more stable than mine. Harry is a on again off again alcoholic."

"She's hard charging," Seb smiled. "Policy work, government plans type. Two kids, boring husband that I don't give her too much shit about. She's the stable one." 

"Mm. Other way around in our family," John said. "I can't stay with her when we're chucked out of here Seb...I think I'd do something drastic."

"Come home with me." He shrugged when he said it, because, well. It was a reasonable alternative. "As long as my father doesn't make a showing."

"Doesn't he understand? I mean he was a diplomat over there?" John asked curiously.

"No, going to war in Afghanistan is probably the only thing we've agreed on in years." There was a lot of context he didn't want to explain.

"Then I guess you and he don't get on much then," John replied. His fingers were stroking back unconsciously.

"As I'm neither married with children, nor a career diplomat, Nah. Not very much, no. This'll amount to a massive told you so." He lifted his eyebrows at John. It did feel good, but eventually they'd have to break it off.

"I'll introduce him to Harry and they can try and outdo each other," John answered. He paused looking at him. "I really want to kiss you but I really want to shower properly first."

"Neat freak doctor. Bugger the shower." He leaned in, just a press of mouth against mouth. John's lips were dry, chapped, but he still felt the same, even if their movements were awkward and aching.

John kissed back and it was as if he didn't quite believe it was happening and then Seb could almost pinpoint the moment where he obviously decided, to hell with it and went for it.  
  
Thank god. Propriety had really no place there, not after everything that had happened. It felt good to connect like that, even if they both probably needed to brush their teeth.  
  
He didn't care and John didn't seem to care. All that mattered was kissing and holding and never fucking letting go. He remembered...he remembered John saying those things. Things that had sounded like he was dying and it had freaked him the hell out.  
  
He didn't want deathbed confessions, he wanted to fucking live, he wanted John to live. And there they were, alive, for what it was worth.  
  
"Colonel Moran." 

John pulled away just a little, clearing his throat. "Colonel Moran was just ...saying hello," he said with a faint blush.

"Apparently." There was a dubious tone to the man's voice, as Seb sat back, still holding onto John with his one free hand. "I shouldn't need to warn you about keeping things appropriate for a hospital setting..."

"It's been a rough week," Seb offered blandly.

"Let's call it...therapy," John suggested.

"You, Dr Watson should know better," the doctor reproved.

"I know, I know," John answered not seeming at all repentant. "But I feel 100% better for seeing him."  
There was a disapproving closed mouthed purse of lips from the doctor, and Seb sat up straighter, settling to just sit beside John. He had a horrible feeling it was going to come back and haunt them in 'therapy'. "I'll behave."

"See that you do," the doctor said. "Neither of you is well enough for... shenanigans."

John looked like he was going to burst out laughing. "No...Shenanigans...got it."

It was hard for Seb to not smirk wildly. "Roger. Where you here for medical reasons as well, then?" He made as if to get out of the way if he needed to.

"I was just seeing how Captain Watson was doing today and to listen to what version of medical treatment I should do today," the doctor said wryly and John looked a little sheepish.

"I am a bad patient."

Seb shifted, gave the doctor room to get in towards John, who shifted back up onto the bed a little more properly. "Good doctor, though."

"There's a reason we don't prescribe for ourselves. Either we dismiss symptoms, believe we can get away with cutting corners or we know too much and end up self-diagnosing terminal illness," the doctor said. 

"I really am feeling a lot better," John said hopefully. "Can I get up too?"

"You lost quite a lot of blood," the doctor chided, finally giving John his full attention. "And you're still very infection prone, given the state of your shoulder. I'd prefer to keep you low mobility for at least another day."

John looked like he was going to protest and then sighed. "Fine, okay. If Seb can keep me company."

“Resting," The doctor added quickly, pointing his pen at Seb as if it were a threat. "You're still both officers. Please act like it."

"Were you ever in?" Seb asked, leaning one elbow on his knee. "Because if not, I'd stow that line. That's an invitation to hard drinking, all right?"

"I think we're entitled to a little slack," John said. "My stats are improving."

"I've warned you about reading your own chart," the doctor said glancing at the chart and then putting it down. "I will be back later when you are not so preoccupied."

Seb pulled a smart look as he waited for the doctor to see himself out. "Well, looks like I'm allowed to stay. What do you want?"

"Shenanigans!" John declared barely stifling a grin. "What else?"

"I was thinking have a walk about, get some hospital tea, newspapers, magazines, we can sort of work out where we are. I don't know what day it is," Seb pointed out.

"I've just been banned from that," John said. "But you could bring some of that back here? Then we could face the media storm together. And they'll have chocolate."

"Hot chocolate, real chocolate?" He'd have to trundle back to his room, grab his ID and whatever wallet they might have recovered and paired with him, but it'd do. 

Doing something was as close as he'd gotten to feeling normal

* * *

It really was amazing the sheer difference Seb visiting him had caused. That morning he had felt flattened by depression but then Seb had come in and suddenly it was like the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.  
  
Seb had eventually returned with an armful of papers and a proper tea, and chocolate. Considering the reliance of on drips and lack of food, the food and drink was amazing. But the papers were as bad as he thought.  
  
Still shots from the videos of both of them -- as well as official photos, which was nice to see, because he'd looked sharp and impressive in his dress uniform, as did Seb, but it was a sad counterpoint to their careers. There it was, the end point of it. The glory of the work, and the shit turn it'd taken. Seb had wadded one paper up entirely, and pitched it at the wastebasket, missing before swearing a bit.

"We are going to get screwed by the press when we're discharged from here," John said, knowing it was an understatement and a half.

Seb was slouched in the chair in the room, breaking a chocolate bar up along the bricklines. "I don't see why they'd bother."

"Because we're national fucking heroes by the look of it," John brandished one of the articles. "At least you get to be the kick ass action hero."

Seb ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. "National heroes for what? We didn't let ourselves get beheaded on camera? We got bloody lucky, and weren't just shot at the scene?"

"I think survival counts as being heroic," John said dryly. "We were lucky." He read a bit more and winced at the cringeworthy rhetoric. "What are the odds of hiding away?"

"My brother in law is a DI. Newly minted, but. I'm not above hiding on a police officer's property." And Seb had certainly accidentally added to the rhetoric with what he thought were his final words. John couldn't quite imagine looking at a camera, expecting death, and having... that to say. Having anything to say other than please, god, no. 

He had just hurled curses, hadn't even said goodbye to his sister because he was terrified giving them what they wanted would have meant instant death. They hadn't exactly discussed precisely what had happened but he knew some of what happened to Seb from the reports.

The filmed version. Not that they were talking about it just then, either. They were absorbing it from complete stranger’s viewpoints, sitting side by side, and it was bizarre to John. 

"Christ."

"Mm?" John said looking up from where he had been staring into space aimlessly.

"This isn't working." Seb had his eye closed again. "This isn't helping. I can't read this shit."

"It's kind of weird. I mean, it doesn't seem to be about us." It felt unreal and detached as if he was reading about someone completely different.

"I'm glad you freaked the fuck out at them. I read like..." Seb gestured to the paper he'd whipped at the wastebasket. "Like some posh fuck from another era."

"You mean you're not? My illusions are destroyed," John replied. It was easier to pull himself together if he had a reason and Seb was definitely a big reason.

It got a laugh out of Seb, and he looked over at John with that funny fond look that still was damn recognizable with just one eye. "You at least tried to fight. I. I don't know. This is fucked up. We're going to always be wondering, hey, random stranger I just met, do you already know me from my worst day?"

"No, see because they don't they, don't know the worst, only you and I know that," John said immediately and god, he just wanted to be well enough to try and fix things by just holding on to him and locking away the world.  
  
It was bad enough to deal with it then it was just them, the two of them. There wasn't any reason to invite the world into it, or his bloody sister.

"They filmed slicing your chest up like a ham, and put it on the internet. They put my eye out on camera, and put it on the internet."

"Yeah, they did." John shuddered. He never wanted to see that moment, but he knew with sickening dread he would at some point. "But we stopped them ever doing it again."

"One drop of water out of an ocean." Seb shrugged again, and slouched in the chair. "Sorry. I know this isn't helping."

"We've got to get our heads around it, so don't worry," John said. "Look we take our victories where we can. Every victory starts with individuals."

Seb ran a hand through his hair, as if that helped, and then offered John a broken off brick of chocolate. "We lived. That's... something. I'm going to remind you you said that."

"Yeah, due to your crazy shooting skills," John said. "How did you get that good?"

"Not much to say about it. My father did game hunting as a hobby, birds, and I took to it pretty well. And I stayed with it. The only reason I left SAS was the career track sort of... nowhere to go if you want to continue commanding at the moment." And nowhere to go just then, either. "Well. I could always go be a mercenary."

"I don't think you need to be a mercenary," John said. "Life expectancy isn't particularly good and I object to that." He really didn't want to let him go.

He just didn't see an easy way to keep together once they were out of the service. It wasn't going to be easy, to start with, and everything seemed... drifting apart would have been simple. "You say that now."

"I'll be saying it a long time if I can help it," John said seriously. "It's not like I hadn't practically moved in before. As much as we could."

"Except that I'm an unbearable asshole when I'm at loose ends," Seb warned. He'd given up on the paper again, and was just looking at John with his one good eye.

"You forget I dealt with you on sick leave," John replied with a faint smile. "I'm not picnic myself."

"Well, that's true. We'll have to drive each other batty, then." Adjusting to life after the war. Even leave had seemed like a very concentrated effort to fake his way through life long enough to get back to the war.

"You don't have to say yes unless you want to," John said, aware he had effectively just broached the subject of living together when they hadn't really don't many of the normal preliminaries.  
  
Then again, they'd started in the middle of an orgy.

Normal possibly didn't have a place there. "I, uh. To what? Seeing how much bored former colonel you can take?"

"I just realised I sprang a pretty big thing on you there. I mean, we didn't even talk about it really." John answered.

"I thought inviting you to stay with me at my sister's was the same conversation." Seb leaned an elbow on the edge of John's bed.

"Really? That could have been a... 'just until you have somewhere else to go' thing," John answered. Seb hadn't even checked with his sister if that was okay. He hadn't assumed it would be a long time thing.

But Seb apparently had. Possibly. "Well, until *I* have somewhere else to go," Seb noted wryly. "We. We can take our time working out what the fuck we're doing."

"As long as your sister doesn't mind house guests," John asked. "House guests that...share?"  
Harry wouldn't mind but she would grill him unbearably.

"My sister worked out I was gay about when I did,if not before," Seb drawled. "Not gunna be a problem. If you don't mind helping to cook, or watching the kids with me so she and Jeremy can get out of the house..." It sounded like Seb had done that, stayed with his sister, before.

"I can cook." John nodded eagerly. "I promised you I would sometime I seem to recall. Just to prove it."

"It'll be all right." Seb reached, patted John's thigh comfortably. "It's not an imposition on her. I sure as hell don't want you going off to Harry."

John smiled and relaxed a little. "That's a relief." He'd had enough of plumbing the depths of how deeply they were screwed. He needed a distraction and without being able to kiss Seb again eventually he said. "How do you feel about crosswords?"

"Shite at them, but let's give it a go."

* * *

The problem with actually assuring John that his masterful non-plan was going to work was that he'd have to do something to make it happen. The nurses had kicked him out after another few hours, made him go upstairs and promise to sleep. They'd also fed him, and he'd managed to talk them into letting him have a landline to call family.

Which led him further to having to call family. He waited until he was sure his sister wasn't eating dinner, and fought the painkillers well enough to dial.

"Hello?" That was Becks answering, promptly within three rings. She hated to leave a phone ringing.

"Becks, hey. It's me." He cleared his throat, closed his eye. It was maddening that his eyes *hurt*, both of them.

"Seb? Oh my f-..oh my god, Seb,” Becks sounded gob smacked. "I wasn't sure whether I should be trying to get hold of you or let you call me. How are you? How are things? How are you feeling?"

"Today's the first day I've really been good and alert," he offered for a start. She'd probably seen the video. There was really no way she hadn't seen the video. "I'm... all right. Considering. We're alive."

"Yes, thank god," she said. "When you say 'we' you mean the doctor who was with you?" She had a tone in her voice that he recognised as picking up on what he hadn't said.

"Captain Watson, yeah. He was the doctor who kept me in the field hospital after the IED strike." Not entirely altruistic on John's behalf, he knew, but he'd been grateful for it, been grateful for John saving him from beating a man to death. "I, uh. Thought I should call. Let you know I'm coherent again."

"Are you allowed to have visitors?" she asked immediately. "Can I come and see you? I can get a day off and come up."

"Yeah, I'm allowed visitors. I shouldn't be here more than another week or so, though. I'm only on enough antibiotics to kill a goat, and I'm going to regret the celebratory food binge we had, but yeah." If she wanted to get a day off and come up, it... it was easier to do face to face with Becks. Seb was shit on the phone.

"I'm guessing you want somewhere to stay," Becks said with the sound of a faint smile in her voice.

"Yeah. John as well." The edges of his mouth twitched a little, as he clutched at the phone. "The Army's done with me. I have to find a job, and then someplace to live."

"You know that our spare room is always available for you...and John," she replied. "I'd like to meet him as well."

"You'll like him. Probably more than you did Seamus." Jesus, he had just. Bad luck with his significant others. "I'll tell you the whole story when I get out of here, but it's not some weird codependent thing."

"Seriously? You have a non-co-dependent relationship?" She seemed genuinely surprised at that. "And Seamus was a first class twat Seb, and you know it. Anyway, how are your injuries?

"Tore up my shoulder taking shots like I was Rambo." He kept his eyes closed. "Driving one handed, firing a rifle with the other. If they could have gotten *that* on tape..."

"..That sounds like something out of an action movies," she replied. "Jesus Seb, and you. Your eye?"

"Oh yeah." He exhaled, a laugh because fuck, what else was he supposed to do? "Completely gone. They took it out. I still haven't gotten to seeing what it looks like."

"Oh Seb..." His normally unflappable sister - unflappable in the face of everything his teenage years had thrown at her, sounded like she was on the verge of crying.

"Apparently in another month or two, I can get a fake eye." He shrugged his shoulders again. With his eyes closed, the phantom smattering of colors he saw felt like it was both eyes. Well, with the one eye closed. "I would've rather lost an arm. A leg. I, fuck. Not handling it very well."

"I'm not surprised. I don't think I would either," Becks said sounding sympathetic. "So it basically means you're out of the army? Seems a bit ungrateful."

He inhaled, focusing. "Well, I've got just. It's. Really minor, just a few too many concussions in a row. I feel all right." Except minor traumatic brain injury was all the currently being explored rage just then, and fuck, they'd done scans on him for his eye and it was notable enough for concern. "Christ, I had double vision and I was on duty for a month with it and no one gave a fuck."

"They probably should have," Becks said. "Okay, look I'll come up on Friday on my own, bring you some things. What do you need? Clothes? Books? Laptop?"

"Yeah. Just take the key to my storage locker and grab whatever." He still had a laptop in there, probably -- paying for storage was cheaper than paying for rent on a place he never saw. His better laptop, he'd wiped the hard drive and given to her kids. "I'm in PT gear right now. It's very god and country of them."

"Right. Has John got any relatives visiting him?" She asked as she obvious noted a few things down.

"No. The alcoholic sister who shouted at him on the phone doesn't count." He opened his eyes again, and the world still felt very narrow being cramped up in the hospital room wasn't helping.

"Oh god really?" Becks sounded appalled. "So I'm assuming you're are sharing room and bed?"

"No, I just set up camp in his room today." It had seemed the easiest solution at the time, even if he was dead tired. Dead tired was better than being dead sad and alone with himself. He was poor fucking company for himself, and maybe only a little better company for John. "They just ran me off for the night."

"How is his recovery? I mean, I saw what they did...but was there more?" she queried obviously trying to get a feel for him.

"He was shot while we were trying to escape. Lodged in his shoulder." Seb sat up a little more in bed. "I uh, thought he was going to bleed out. I'm pretty sure he went into shock while we were trying to get back to base." And that might’ve been why they were intent on keeping John, to see if the organ damage was all not so bad, healing, what.

"I thought he'd bled out on the video," Becks said. "Does he needs stuff if his sister is flaking out? No one else dropping in for him?"

"No." John had some buddies in London, but there were mates, drinking buddies, and then there were people who were willing to drive to another city out of their way, "They were going to pack our quarters out and post it along."

"Which will take god knows how long. You know his size? I can get him something, decent pajamas for a start." That was his sister, all about the practicalities.

"Medium?" Seb considered it for a moment. "32/31, in trousers." John was average height, and compact, and probably a damn sight easier to shop for than Seb was.

"How tall is he then?" she asked obviously taking notes. "Are either of you on a restricted diet?"

"Five foot six. We're on normal food, if a bit bland. That might just be hospital food." He managed a laugh, imagining her writing down a list on a notepad. "Sometimes I forget you do this. I mean that as a compliment."

"Organizing people is my thing. If there are no restrictions I'll bring you in a few things. A decent coffee for a start."

"I haven't had a decent coffee since the last time I was on leave." And what a leave it had been. It felt surreal that he'd gone from *that* to... to this, to wondering what the hell he was going to do with his life.

"That I can certainly sort out for you," she said with a warm tone. "It might be one of the only things I can do to help at the moment."

"You're helping a lot." He rubbed a hand over his face, because yeah, he was restless and bored, and half sure if he tried exercising he'd get the same angry reaction John had had for him. 

"Just by talking on the phone? Well that's easy," She said. "The kids are going to freak out when you come to stay...they love seeing their Uncle Seb."

"Uncle Seb's going to have a lot of free time on his hands for a couple of weeks." And looking at the job ads. Trying to work out just what an escorted to the door colonel *was* good for. Jesus. Now he remembered why Richard had been at such loose ends.

"Well, there's plenty of time for you to just get yourself together," Becks replied. "Father is… doing what you might expect."

"I'm not even sure what that is right now. Making a fuss?" Being a pain, giving Seb every reason to not want to get near him, because it was always... bad.

"Doing that thing where you are not sure if he is proud of you because his son is being hailed a wounded hero, or disgusted," she said.

He closed his eyes again, and laughed. "I'm not sure what there is to be disgusted about, but yeah. Not really surprising." Maybe by dint of John being there, he'd stay away.

"Oh you know, we Moran's are meant to be perfect and invulnerable," Becks replied in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "Just like him."

"I still came off as a posh wanker. That fucking video..." And she'd thought John had already bled out on camera, which meant she'd seen it. "Jesus. Yeah, I'm not surprised."

"You did say you loved me. I cried...quite a lot as it happens," Becks replied. She hardly ever cried, she just didn't.

It wasn't something they *did*. "I thought I was going to be beheaded." He half-felt the urge to apologize, which was daft.

"I thought that too," she said in a softer voice. "I love you too you great big idiot. I'm very glad you didn't get decapitated."

"Well, the feeling's mutual." Becks tended to make him smile, whether she meant it or not. "I'll let you go, all right? I've uhm. Well, I've got walls to stare at, but I don't want my brother in law getting jealous of the phone."

"Don't be an idiot... How ‘bout you call back later tonight unless I can call you?" she suggested.

"I'll call back if I'm alert, yeah. Thanks." He needed to pin a doctor down, and they'd be making their last rounds. There was an urge to find out just how bad things were, if he was being processed, likely slowly, for removal.

"Okay... You can call back any time Seb, whenever okay?" Becks replied. "And make a list of things."

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to make a list of, but he supposed she'd remind him. "Will do. Talk to you later." He'd never been a lingerer on calls, but hanging up on his sister just then took a little longer than usual.

It was hard because he remembered that weird teenage feeling where Becks was the one that could fix everything, and when he was equally determined to never have to do that.

That was possibly why he was all out of sorts. Because part of being in command was fixing things for his men, for guiding them. For trying to get them all straightened out, and gently smacking them into place. His own personal life was just the confines lined out by his work, and that made it easier to handle as well.

Christ.

He dozed, trying to not think too hard until the doctor knocked lightly on the door.

"Colonel Moran." Dr Haywood entered the room and really the knock was more about alerting him than asking permission.

"Yeah?" He pushed his hair back from his face.

"I'm glad to see you resting," the doctor said. "I've come to check your injury."

"Good. I wanted to know if... I'm being processed out, and the grounds, if that's the case." He sat up a little taller, trying to feel as alert as he was trying to look.

"You have a medical injury of permanent nature," he said. "This does mean a discharge Colonel. The matter of sight impairment and the unresolved anomalies on the CAT scan.”

'Sight impairment'. That was one word for it. Seb closed his eye, and then glanced at the doctor again. "The anomalies are what, then?"

"Well that is the difficulty. No one is entirely sure," Dr Haywood said. "We will need to run additional tests. We've spoken before about the route of infection to the brain. There are concerns that you might be harboring resistant lesions of bacteria."

"... so I'm not going home soon, then?" Because he felt fine, except for the headache, and the headache was the problem there.

"Not immediately, we just need to be cautious. " Dr Haywood looked at him. "Infection is not something to dismiss. It might just be remnants and healing, but we need to be sure."

That was even better, that they had no idea what it was. Fantastic. So either it was something from an infection, or it was just plain damage from getting his bell rung so many times. "Okay. Anything else I need to know?"

"Let's take a look under that dressing," the doctor said approaching and lifting the patch.

He held still, even though letting anyone into his personal space was a barely suppressed flinch of a moment. "It hasn't done anything surprising, right?"

"No, the socket is healing nicely. It should hold a prosthetic eye matched to your other successfully. The inflammation has reduced well," the doctor confirmed. "Ironically the optic nerve is effectively still intact. Should they ever develop the bionic eye research further you would be a prime candidate."

"Good. Put me on the list, and call me in ten years," Seb drawled, carefully trying to not move. "If the lesions on my brain don't get me."

"If they are infection based... which we are treating them as if they are, we should see a change in size. Are you still getting headaches?" He started to repack the wound site.

"Yeah. I've had headaches on and off since the IED strike back in the spring," Seb told him, "So I hadn't given it too much thought."

"It's possible the infection may have exploited those areas of minor damage." Doctor Hayward said. "So I'm going to organise some scans for you. We need to monitor it closely until it shows signs of alteration."

"And then you pop part of my skull out and cut into my brain?" Fuck. Fuck. There was no mentioning it to John, he'd find a way to blame himself. 

"We will try and avoid that scenario... we are monitoring it and loading you up with broad spectrum antibiotics." Doctor Haywood said. "You are lucky you were taking some at the outset of the injury."

"I was lucky I was holed up with a doctor who carried a damn infirmary with him." Antibiotics, then, and lots of them, which was better than brain surgery. Fuck. "Is that it? No other bad news lurking?"

"Were you expecting more?" the doctor asked. "We don't want to do unnecessary interventions. You are progressing better than should be expected and with any luck but the only other surgical procedure scheduled is possibly on your shoulder."

"No, I feel all right and was just sort of hoping I could go home sooner." Another week now seemed like another two weeks, maybe more and... Well, all right. His sister was coming. With a laptop he could start at least on the paperwork. He'd been in long enough for it to be less of a medical discharge and more of a retirement. Shit, he could've already retired, but he'd joined early, and... And it was all right. It would be all right.

"We will monitor you over the next week and see if there is a response to the antibiotics," he said. "If it is stabilized at least, you might still be able to go home."

"All right. Good to know." He held still as the man pressed the new sterile pad over his eye. 

"How are you feeling otherwise? Your visit to see Captain Watson?" he asked as he carefully dealt with it.

"Good. I'll head down there tomorrow again. Then I can be bored and resting with company." He smirked a little. Particularly if they had to behave. 'Behave'. 

"It certainly seemed to cheer him up as well. There, I'll put in a prescription for an additional antibiotic regime. The nurses will bring it around with dinner okay?"

"Thanks." He could go back to trying to read, and that very dutiful staring at a wall.

"I'm going to refer you as well to a specialist in vision impairment and occupational therapy," the doctor mentioned. "She will be able to provide you with the best exercises to help your vision adjust."

"Sure." Great. What the fuck was he supposed to say? If he could get, keep his driver's license, that was good, that was a start. But he didn't think occupational therapy included shooting. He'd have to find a range and just work with himself until he was done.

"Okay then, make sure you rest Colonel. That will help as much as any medicine." And with that Dr Hayward left him to continue on his rounds.

It was going to be a bloody long week.

* * *

Being well enough to do things and move around had the unfortunate downside of having to go to therapy. It was ridiculous how pathetically bad he was at cooperating in therapy compared to the ease of conversation with Seb.

As it was, the idea of having to sit across from a complete stranger and describe how he was feeling was fucking excruciating. And, it broke the faint, faint routine he had going -- where Seb would come down to spend as much time with him as possible, and it made the time go much faster.

He wasn't sure how many time he could say he was doing okay and them not move on to the next question.

"I know this is going to be... a change. A change in the life you were living, a change of careers, a lot of change," the woman was saying.

True enough. "Yeah," he agreed, willing to leave it at that but the silence making him say. "Pretty much all my plans shot to hell."

"What were you planning?" She posed it in a way that made John's hackles go up. And it wasn't the doctor's fault, not in the least.

"A successful surgical career," he said shortly. "My next level of promotions would have me specializing and..." Would have… yeah right. "Well, that's not going to happen now."

"Because of your shoulder. Have you thought about what you'd like to do?" Have a successful surgical career. That was the problem there.

"Mmm. I've always wanted to be a surgeon. I don't have a backup plan," John answered, shifting to get comfortable. "I suppose I could be a GP."

Which he'd already considered and dismissed. "I'm sure you could," she offered, and it made John want to squirm. That was the moment where if he'd been younger, she would've been discussing retraining and new fields. "The nurses have mentioned you're having sleep disturbances."

Sleep disturbances? That was a polite way of putting it. More like all out screaming nightmares.  
  
"Yeah, I am. Just ...you know stuff. From back then."

"Linked to what happened to you when you were captured, or...?"

"From being captured," John said. "I was … bloody terrified the whole time. And it's the first time I've personally shot anyone." Three anyones. One after another. Dead, dead, dead.

"How does that make you feel? Knowing that you killed?" After the damage had been done, after it would have helped.

"The sort of feeling that gives me nightmares." He looked down at his hands a moment. "I'm a doctor, I'm about saving lives, not taking them.”

"But you joined the army," she pointed out to him. "And you trained in using a gun."

"Yes because it was a way of getting surgical experience. Of doing surgery in a way that would save lives.” How many times did he have to say it?

She was looking at him a little sad, her expression hard to read. "There is a&e ward work you might be able to qualify for," she suggested. "Something for you to think about.” There was a glance to her pen pad. "Your relationship with Colonel Moran..."

"What about it?" Okay, he had been discrete about it before but really what was the point now?

"While the bonds forged in stressful situations can be intense, doctor, it's important to ask yourself if what you're feeling is real, or a stress reaction."

"The bonds forged were in existence before we were captured, and I assure you are very real," John replied. "We've had a relationship for a long time."

"Oh!" She sounded genuinely surprised as she leaned back in her chair. "I'm sorry, I thought it was, well, we've seen things like that happen before. Sometimes mentioning it is enough to shake a person into re-examining what's going on in his or her mind."

"All the experience has done is clarify my usual relationship dithering. I thought he'd died and..." The horror of convincing himself that lingered.

It lingered and it tainted his dreams, it tainted his reality now and then, even with Seb sitting beside him in his hospital room. It had taken all of half a boring morning for Seb to reveal himself as a reader, and he'd come up from the hospital gift shop with a couple of shitty thriller paperbacks that they'd taken turns reading aloud and poking holes in. He got jumpy every time Seb had dozed a bit. He caught himself fretting over the possibility of infection and what that might mean if it had gotten into the brain.

"But neither of you died."

"No. But they were pretty convincing." John said. Completely convincing actually and he knew he was disturbed over it.

"Have you tried framing what happened in juxtaposition to what you both might do together in the future?" For a moment, John was very sure that she'd just finished her schooling, because he'd run into very few therapists over the years who actually still used big conceptual words at patients.

"Uh… well, we are hopefully going to see about staying together," he replied feeling a bit confused at the question.

It wasn't at all fun to watch his therapist try to work through a moment herself. "You're accustomed to a work environment. You should try visualizing things you'll do after you leave the hospital. It might make the fact that you're both here and alive feel more solid."

What the fuck use was that? John just stared for a moment and said "Yeah okay. Good idea."  
Christ, useless.

"Good. Are you having any other problems...?" She checked her notes as well again. Aside from being on the verge of a constant mental break down, feeling scared all the time about everything. No, no, he was perfectly fine, except for all of that, so it was easy to just stare at her and shake his head no. Dammit.

It was easier just to nod and agree and hey, to be signed off . He got more benefit from talking to Seb.  
  
He might look for a real therapist later, maybe. He didn't know, but he knew some of the rulebooks they were working from and it didn't help when he knew the plays. It made it excruciating painful to watch someone fumble their way through it.

He heaved a sigh of relief when she finally left.

It didn't take long for Seb to come back. It was almost as if he'd set a clock for her appointment time, plus ten, back down in his PT clothes with a book and a fleece blanket. He looked a little pale and sweaty, but also like he was in a decent mood. "Hey."

"Hey," John replied. Stupid therapist. Stupid new idiot therapist who might as well been trying to read from a text book.

It would've been better if she'd just handed it to John and let him read it himself.

"My ongoing and brazen stupidity in the face of doctors’ orders is going to be turning your room into a two bedder." He smirked as he settled into the chair, wrapping the blanket around himself. "How was therapy?"

"The biggest pile of shit and useless waste of time ever," John replied a little bitterly.

"That good, then?" He set the book of the day on John's bed, leaned an elbow on the mattress. "I know this is daft, but do you want to talk about it?"

"About the therapy? All it was was text book regurgitation, making insinuations of our relationship just being a result of a life or death situation and hey, maybe I could be a limited surgeon if I'm a really good boy."

"Well, shoot low. I got the young fellow, thinks life stops at forty, and that gay is what happens when you were molested as a child." He was watching John, still looking a tiny bit too-bright eyed. "So I took the piss out of him."

John snorted. "I bet you did. What did you tell him?"

"I put on my best puppy dog face and played along, confessing to just some of the most hysterical made up shit ever, and then I snapped at him and pointed out that he needed to not project his fucking issues on his god-damned patients, and would he like to start the session over, or just call it a wash and think about his career development?"

John grinned. "I really wish I'd done that with mine. Did he chuck you out or start again?"

"He started over, but he was really flustered. It was great." Seb shifted, shrugging deeper into his blanket. "Useless, but. I got a bit of a laugh, and then I got the good news that they're moving me down here."

"What really? I thought you were joking?" John perked up at that. Seb being close was all the help he could hope for.

"Do I look like a man who recklessly throws up because the antibiotics are fucking killing me, and then declares I'm going to visit you anyway?" Yes. Yes, Seb did, which he supposed was enough to make the staff give up.

"Seb..." John shook his head and then smile. "Only you huh. So you are moving in...what here? Actually in here?"

"I'm a massive pain in their arses," Seb agreed, making a gesture at the door. "So yeah. Yeah."

"Loving your approach to therapy," John answered. "You are a complete genius. I just wanted my session to end.”

"My therapist just wanted my session to end, by the time I was done with him." He leaned against the side of John's bed. "My sister's coming today for a visit."

"This being the famous Becca?" John asked. He was a little nervous about that suddenly. He got the impression that she was the most important family member with regard to Seb. There were a whole load of anxieties there.

After all, Seb's suspected last words had been to say he loved her. That was.... that was *not* anything that had crossed his mind about Harry, Harry hadn't even *crossed* his mind. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd gotten to the meet the family stage of a relationship. Having a relationship, sure, no problem, but he'd gone through enough of them an awful *lot* of them, and never survived the family test with everything unscathed. "Famous is a bit much. Anyway, I think she's bringing you pajamas."

"Pajamas?" She didn't even know him and she'd already put more thought into him than his own sister. He hated to say it but though he loved Harry, he didn't like her very much. That was often the way with family. "That's really thoughtful of her. She doesn't have to."

Though he'd really love to be out of scrubs and hospital clothes. Even up and about in PT clothes seemed good, but they wanted access to his injury sites, so scrubs it was. "My sister's job is to be thoughtful and to catch just. Every bloody detail. She's really brilliant with stuff like that."

"What does she do for a living then? Where does she work?" He picked nervously at his sleeve. How could he make a good impression like this? He really really wanted to attempt a shower before she got there.

"Government policy work, though pretty non-disclosure. She could run bloody MI5 for all I know." The edges of his mouth twitched, even as he blinked hard, looking like he was fighting sleep. "Or somewhere in the traffic patterns division. One of the two. I had my first suspicions when she gently suggested I not take a holiday to a country that had some brutal unrest the same day my flight would've landed."

"Inside information then. Always good to have someone who can tell you things like that. ," John suggested ."You look a bit tired Seb."

"Mm." He closed his eye for a moment, staying still in the chair, half leaned up against John's bed. "Antibiotics are a bugger. I'm glad I'm bigger than the goats these things could kill. How're you feeling?" 

"Like I want to drop-kick my therapist, have a decent shower and then I would be exhausted for the day," John admitted. His reserves of strength just hadn't returned. "Why don't you lie down on the other bed or something?"

"Because I'm stubborn and I want to be upright when she gets here. I know, I know. Counterproductive." He shifted, fleece still hauled around himself, and looked toward the other bed. "Fine, I'll give it a shot."

"Better to now than drop off midway through a conversation," John pointed out, smiling a little at him. He could be stubborn with himself sometimes.

"I'm not afraid to use those words against you later," Seb pointed out as he finally stood up to wander over to the other bed. No, he wasn't afraid to give John back his own advice, but it would at least mean he was listening to John a little and ribbing him. He pulled at the sheets, and got in with motions that were no-where under the definitions of grace. The shoulder brace was driving John crazy as well, but he was going to be trapped in it a lot longer.

"The doctors keep assuring me its fine, and nothing to worry about." He smirked at John. "And doctors never lie. Right?"

"Right." Yeah right. "Just as well you are close. I will look after you."

"Yeah, I know. It'll still be all right." And what if that was why they were moving Seb down in the first place? Was that good news then, or bad news?

John's opportunity to over think was interrupted by the door opening, and a nurse carrying in Seb's chart, and a few other things, books, magazines. "Good, I'm glad you're settled in, Colonel. Good morning, Captain. We'll be bringing lunch around soon, and medications. How are you today?"

"Better for the company," he replied. "I don't suppose there is any chance of me trying a shower is there?" He knew they would take that as a good sign. If you could worry about that sort of thing you were on the mend.

"Not today, no, but we can do wipes if you want..." God, baby wipes had been shorthand for a shower for some of the longer patrols and trips they took, and Damn good for it. Seb chuckled from his reclining doze.

"He'll take it."

"Is that a comment on my personal hygiene?" John replied. "Okay, I'll take whatever I can get at this stage. I stink."

Well a slight exaggeration but not far from the truth. He could smell himself, so stinking wasn't far off. "Nah, you smelled worse after that one medcap with the small vomiting child." Everyone on the medical team had joked that John could ride back on the roof. "I'll take a couple as well."

"I'll just leave you two a box," the nurse offered. "Is the wound site still warm today, captain?"

"A little, yes," he admitted. It got worse in the evenings as he got tired. "But I think it's gone down some."

"Good." With everything set down, she went to the door to wash her hands briefly. "Let me take a look at it, and then I'll get you two some wipes." 

"Thanks," John replied. This would be a bit uncomfortable but a little bit of fresh air would help it. Prodding and poking would no doubt lead to some minor swearing.

John was used to it by then, but he still had to brace himself as the sterile bandage was pulled off, and it was carefully inspected. "Good, that's looking much better." He still did the morbid thing, looked at it as well as the nurse fetched the supplies to clean the edges and redress it.

It had made a hell of a mess there, partly due to the surgery to get the bullet out. He was anticipating a permanent scar there that would be visible for the rest of his life and when he was older he would be a prime target for arthritis. Right now, it was still open, still a gaping...well not just a hole but a pit that they were wound packing so it would heal from the bottom up and not trap with infection inside. Even knowing all that it made him faintly sick to see it.

Muscle and bone and blood vessels would slowly fill in, but it was a long recovery even at the optimum. The nurse was quick, no nonsense about it, because his was probably the tenth wound she'd dressed that day, but it still left John feeling disturbed as it was re-packed. The room was quiet, as Seb had dozed off again, but inside of ten minutes, the nurse was back with the wipes.

He thanked her and contemplated how best to go about it. He didn't want to disturb Seb, who was obviously wiped out, so he manfully hobbled to the bathroom and very slowly and carefully started to wipe down. Easier said than done. There were some area's he could not reach easily and that was frustrating.

The fact that he was doing it one armed and injured was worse. Every muscle seemed to pull and every inch of his body ached as he wiped himself down. It still felt better, even as he sat precariously on the lid of the toilet and cleaned his legs one handed. "John?" He could hear Seb's bed make a bit of racket as he got out of it. 

"In here attempting a… wipe bath," he said giving a sort of grunt as he straightened up. It was enough to make him sweat and feel shaky and considering he lay in bed all day that was really pathetic. 

Hell, Seb as fighting an infection and he was up and wandering around. "Hold on." It took a moment, but Seb lurched into the bathroom doorway, rubbing at his face as if a twenty minute doze had been the longest nap of his life. "What can't you reach?" 

"My back for a start," he replied. "No way in hell I can twist back that far." Really, his legs had been pushing it as well. 

"Scoot up." Seb grabbed a wipe from the box, and moved to stand beside him, wielding it for a moment before he started at the base of John's neck. "Under the right circumstances, this could be really interesting." Except those weren't particularly the right circumstances.  
  
  
"Is this where you confess to fantasies of sponge baths?" John asked too grateful to stop him from doing it for him. He could repay the favour.

It felt good to get even a level of cleanliness. "Yeah, wherever we end up, I want a shower big enough for two."

And that had just slipped out and that was a definite fantasy right there.

Seb leaned down, pressed a kiss behind John's ear as he wiped at his back. "Best idea I've heard all day."

"That's a bit weird, even for me. Maybe really good shower facilities have been a little too rare in my lifetime." Wetness moved across his shoulders, his spine.

"At least I taste better now." John said with a smile. "I don't want to stink out your sister."

"Eh, she has two kids. I think you're all right." He leaned back a little. "Better?"

"Much better thanks," he said. It was amazing what a difference even that could make. "You having a go yourself?"

"Umph, maybe, yeah." He leaned against the sink, pulling at one, and struggling briefly with his t-shirt before giving up and putting a hand up his shirt.

"I can at least scrub your back in return." It was a good sign his libido was returning too. He smiled a little as he reached for a wipe.

"I'm going to start cutting the sleeves off the t-shirts," Seb groused, wiping at his own neck first.

"Why?" John asked as he wiped over muscles and his neck. He smiled to himself even though he could feel the tiredness of exertion.

"So I don't have to fight the arm brace. I think that trick with the gun qualifies for a starring role in a safety PowerPoint." Seb flexed his muscles a little, and John mostly didn't laugh.

It was hard to completely suppress a snort. " With a title along the lines of Why real soldiering isn't like the movies. No one believes us when we warn them."

"I don't believe us when we warn them," Seb countered, getting at his armpits. "I understand that feeling of 'yeah, why not? Let's kick some ass!'."

"At least yours was due to necessity." John replied. "I fired one handed and it knocked me on my ass."

"Not your pistol?" He gave a disbelieving noise. "When was this?"

"After I was shot in the shoulder. I tried to help when you were driving. I don't remember being particularly useful." John admitted admiring Seb's muscles on his back.

Seb twisted a little, eyeing John over his bad shoulder. "I'm pretty sure you were useful. I was completely focused on just. Survival."

"I think mainly I was sliding down the seat of the car in a haze," John said. He made sure to stay on Seb's good eye side.

It was a little awkward, but he seemed to appreciate it. "Yeah, I thought you were dying."

"Seb?" a voice John did not recognize sounded out in their room. "Are you in here? " There was a knock on the door and it was pushed open.

"Hey, Becks. This is exactly what it looks like." Seb leaning against the sink with his t-shirt awkwardly rucked up, while John sat on the closed toilet seat with a baby wipe in hand.

"Oh good god really Seb. You are insatiable," the smart looking young woman said. She looked at John who just knew he was looking sheepish. She was the epitome of a capable looking woman, tall and with a whipcord thinness that made her look tough rather than fragile. She had the same color eyes as Seb and her hair was a shade or two darker blonde than him, but the way she set her jaw was almost a mirror for her brothers.

"Uh, hi. Nice to meet you," John said.

Seb shifted off of the sink edge, and let his shirt down, tidying up the wipes like it was nothing. "I was insatiable for a shower..."

"Yes, I believe you," Becks replied. "I'll just wait outside until you two are...done."

So much for a good first impression. 

Seb chuckled quietly, running a hand back through his hair. "Sorry, John. Did we miss any spots?"

"No, that's brilliant. So much for a good first impression huh?" John replied able to see a little of the funny side of it. "I guess we better finish up in here and go and face the music."

"Lasting first impressions are almost always better than good ones." Seb steadied himself against the sink as he helped John up with his good hand. "I think this counts as today's adventure. Maybe tomorrow we could block out a couple of hours and work out one handed hair washing in the sink."

"Definitely a plan," John agreed. It made such a difference to be able to do that sort of thing. He felt a little wobbly as he stood mainly due to his leg, but after he got his top back on, and was up and limping back to his bed he put a brave face on things as he found Becks out there waiting for them all.

"So Seb, I see you've managed to move in here as well. I brought you both some supplies - at least now you can share," she said obviously in the middle of unpacking a bottomless carry all bag of things.

"Nurses got tired of me staggering down here unsupervised, so they gave up." He was watching his sister curiously as he approached her, and then stopped beside her.

John could tell as he eased on to his bed in relief, that she was covering up how she felt by keeping her hands busy, but when she stopped, she looked up at him and it was a patently obvious struggle for her to keep her composure. In the end she made a hesitant move with her arms and then very carefully hugged her brother. "You stupid bloody idiot, getting hurt..." she said in faint voice.

"I'm sorry," John heard Seb murmur, even though he didn't really mean it. He leaned into her, hugging her back one handed. "Made it home."

"Yeah well Afghanistan would not have liked it if I had to come over and look for you. They barely coped with me the first time around," Becks said.

He laughed, pressed his forehead against her shoulder. "Yeah, that was two of us. And that was two of us that Afghanistan got, so. Best you don't go back, huh? Place has gone to shit, anyway."

"For my little brother, you're not getting any smaller. "

John watched as the obvious real affection there between them he was oddly wistful. He'd missed that in his own family what with their parents both dead and Harry being...well, Harry.

Harry was so wrapped up in herself that the world could and if she survived her chief complaint would be that her coffee shop wasn't open.

Seb cleared his throat, and leaned back from Becks, straightening up as he patted at her back. "You just wish you were taller. Want to sit down?"

"Yeah, and you can get back in that bed as well. You look wobbly and we're ignoring John."

"It's okay," John said hastily. "I'm fine."

Seb wandered over to the other bed, and got into it awkwardly. "No, it's not. John, let me formally introduce you to Rebecca Lanner, née Moran, my very favorite sister."

"I'd say a pleasure to meet you but actually it probably would have been better to meet you not in a hospital and on drugs," John said. "John Watson... uh, Captain and doctor."

"Best doctor in my battalion," Seb supplied.

"If you had to deal with him, you'd have to be," she said with a smile.

"He's not that bad," he said.

"Flatterer," Seb deadpanned, pulling at his fleece blanket, settled in on his side so he could see them both. Becks settled into a chair between the two beds, not blocking John. "Do you know when you might be released?"

"Not yet unfortunately. They are waiting for this to heal up some and to get shot of the infection in there. They had to do extensive surgery," John admitted.

And with it, his fine motor control wasn't going to be as fine. "We... We're both probably going to be here a bit," Seb admitted.

"Do I get to know why?" she said curiously. 

"They're considering poking around my shoulder after I played Rambo. And, just a minor infection. Shouldn't impede me from looking online at flat prices and swearing." Seb offered it all in the same not effectively misleading way he'd told John the same information.

She gave him a look and then leveled a look at John. "Oh really? That all seems very… routine."

"Mm. They are being cautious," John added.

"My brother is the worst liar in the world, John. I'm not sure you've noticed that, but he's never actually told me a convincing lie."

"Because you make me feel guilty," Seb muttered.

"It's a talent," Becks admitted and smiled a little before going serious. "Okay then, You are trying to make something serious sound like nothing so what is it… MRSA or something? you've got a resistant superbug as an infection?"

"Zombie-ism. It's AQ's big secret weapon." Seb was smirking a little, "No, just a little bacterial brain plaque. I'm sort of pissed, and it probably all started with that damn IED blast. I'll be all right. We both got too far for this to go to shit now."

Becks settled into a chair between the two beds, not blocking John. "Do you know when you might be released?"

"Not yet unfortunately. They are waiting for this to heal up some and to get shot of the infection in there. They had to do extensive surgery," John admitted.

John could see Becca take that news and process it with iron control. "I see. So what did the papers get wrong and what didn't be see?" she asked them both.

"We got through about two newspapers before I personally gave up on it. It..." Seb hesitated for a moment, looking at John. "John came up with the plan to get us out."

"I did?" John had to think about that. "I wouldn't have called that a plan, more stopping you flinging yourself at the enemy and attacking them with your teeth."

"Now that I can believe," Becks said dryly.

"I was tempted." John watched Seb's cheeks color a little, before he grinned a little. "Honestly, though, I don't know what was reported and what wasn't." They'd been very focused on themselves, on day to day, and not getting too too melancholy.

"Well...there were the reports of an ambush at a village and the fact they double ambushed the squad and brought down the medievac helicopter, killing the injured and medics aboard. Uh, there were reports that you allowed everyone else to escape..."

"Seb created a distraction, but I was already under guard so..." John felt he had to say.

"I grabbed their ringleader and held a knife to his throat. The downside of that is there wasn't any way to get away, but..."

"But your men were in danger and your first thought was for them," Becks summarized.

"Given that they'd just rpg'd a helo full of medics and elders, I figured escaping was better that trusting they'd treat us well."

"I have to admit, hostage taking doesn't usually take place at this time of year," Becks said and John was surprised at her knowledge.

"It's off season," Seb agreed, pulling at the bedding a little. There was that urge to know more, to engage, but John had it and knew it amounted to fucking nothing at all. "I managed to get their laptop back to command, so they've likely had a field day with it."

"I'm sure they have. So what else? I mean, there's not really much out there about how you escaped, just that you both...somehow escaped after being tortured," Becks said.

"John feigned that I'd died of a brain aneurysm." He looked at John again. "And this is really your story to tell. I did the usual trying to fight someone off with my teeth."

John grimaced. "I feigned hysterical... They ignored me but we figured that might happen. When Seb went for one I went for another and somehow managed to get a hold of his gun though I got shot. I shot that one and then another..." He frowned a little because talking about it woke up the images in his mind.

"And once the four of them were dead, we headed out into the main room. John got the keys off of one of them, and we took their truck. It was smooth sailing, until we got closer to the base."

"We nearly froze over night as well," John added. "I started to flake out, and then we picked up news of intercepting forces. It all became a bit chaotic."

"Are you telling me you ran a gauntlet?" Becks asked.

"And that was when I decided driving one handed and firing my rifle with the other was an excellent plan," Seb drawled. "And John traveled with a med kit that even had a saline bag. Which probably saved his life."

"To be fair, I knew I was going out to casualties, so I packed it for ease of access." John smiled a little.

"The media is going to flip out when they finally get to you." Becks said. "They'll want film rights as well."

"Christ, that's fucking bizarre." Seb closed his eye. "We had men die over there, and they just want to flip it into film projects."

"One thing I know is you toss the media something otherwise they'll take it from you," she said. "Anyway, I bought you things. Both of you." Becks reached for the bag. "Here, I'm guessing you don't have much in the way of cash so I got you out some."

Seb shifted, eye open again, trying to get a little more upright. "You're a godsend. I was close to starting to beg at the tea machine."

"And some for John too," Becks said handing it over.

John was mildly stunned by that. "You didn't have to..."

"Yes well I didn't have to buy random chocolate but I did," she replied.

It was just bizarre, and John kept catching himself doing compare and contrast with Harry, except clearly it was apples and oranges, because they were different creatures. She looked sad and strained at the edges, but also oddly happy. "Ah, now you're trying to spoil us."

"It's true. Galaxy for you, Cadburys for John just for a variety,” she said producing another bundle. "And a laptop and a netbook... it's got an openworld sign in so you can trawl the internet."

"The sooner we start looking for a flat, the better," Seb deadpanned. "Thanks, Becks. Just... thanks."

"Hey, it's what I do remember? Anticipate what people need. And I'm very good at it," she said.

"I really want to thank you, " John said. "You don't even really know me and you've done all this for me."

"You're keeping my intolerable brother company." There was a teasing note to her voice as she passed him the netbook. "And I fished this out of Seb's storage locker. I can't make you heal faster, but I can help with creature comforts."

"I get to try to rifle your files huh?" John asked glancing at him as he took it. It would be a godsend, it really would.

"Hah, yeah, that's ages old. I might have a game or so installed on it as well." He leaned over a little, peering at it. "That should be entertaining."

"A game? What game?" John asked.

"Used to be Civilization," Becks pointed out.

"Still civ. I can't play those first person shooters. I have an irrational urge to be pissed off that every sniper shot is a perfect shot regardless of environment, and that the sight picture never looks right." He leaned up on one arm, not quite opening his laptop yet. He was watching John and Becks.

John smiled. "Isn't it one of those games you can play against someone?" he asked a little blandly.

It got a smile from Seb, after a slow moment of thinking about it. "Ah, that's true. It'll probably take us a day or so just to get that set up." 

"Yeah." John answered. He found that somewhere along the line his vision had started to blur with tiredness, despite blinking it away, and he just had to rest his eyes a moment...still listening to conversation. At least to start with.

* * *

"I've never wanted to leave a place so much in my life." He was pulling his jeans on with both hands, and that was just one of the things he was grateful for. There was so much to be grateful for -- that his head wasn't hurting, that he was given a medical mostly all clear, that John was able to move his arm again, at least in a limited range.

"No kidding," John agreed. He was moving slower than him but that was understandable, but he relished the opportunity to use his left hand even if it took longer. "You could have left earlier...don't think I don't know that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Anyway, they weren't in a rush. They were going to stay with his sister, and hopefully not bring a media circus with them.

"Whatever." John smiled. "So this big dinner... Should I be looking forward to it or practicing polite gratitude in case your sister can't cook?"

"Oh, my sister can cook." He buckled his belt up, watching as John went through the same steps. It all felt very surreal, and hard to place, that they were there instead of in Afghanistan, that they were essentially stepping out into a great unknown.

"In that case I am looking forward to it like you wouldn't believe," John replied looking at him. "How are we getting out of here without being spotted?"

"I was considering throwing a flashbang to the left, while we run right." He fumbled for a moment with his buckle, and then glanced back up at John. "Honestly, I think we just walk calmly and don't say crap, meet my sister at the car." They each had a backpack filled with the various acquired bits they had from their stay. One handed civilization had been a main stay, but after so long even that got boring and they'd started to make their own rules. 'No advancing past elephants.' 'Stop killing me with your SAMS gunners.' 'How does world peace work?'

"I'm relying on you to carry me if we run into hostiles," John jokes with a slight twist to his smile that showed he was trying to make light of whatever was going on with his leg.

No one knew why John was limping, and it really seemed to be a true, solid limp. It hurt for him to walk on it for too long, unassisted, and that was maddening that it was just.... unexplained. "Well, I'm not sure how far we'll get if we do that, but yeah."

"Right. I'm ready," John replied reaching for the new addition of a cane for support. "Time to bust out of here."

He shrugged on his coat, and reached for the two bags. It was daunting in a way, because now they needed to live again. They weren't in limbo anymore, and neither of them knew what they were going to go. "Let's go."

They had been in the hospital so long, that it had become their own little world. People had tried to get in to see them, but had been headed off. It was just as well because it had had its rough moments. Particularly when they were reducing morphine doses.

He hadn't realized how much easier the drugs had made it all until they started to work them back and away, and then, fuck, yeah, every little grind had been too much. Except that when he pushed at John, John pushed right back, and that was a relief.

Seb reached to open the door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

They hadn’t announced they were leaving, but there were still reporters who lurked around outside on the off chance they could slip past hospital staff. When they were spotted - and they were down the steps and on their way over to the car park when someone realized- there was a sudden convergence around them.

He was still holding onto the bags, but he reached out to try to put himself between John and the reporters. "Whoa, hey, you can back up..."

"Colonel Moran! Just a few questions... how are you feeling now?"

"Captain Watson, how do you feel about your ordeal being an internet sensation?"

The reporters really were like a feeding frenzy. Seb squared his shoulders, and grimaced as he walked forward, pulling John along. "Great, we're doing just great -- if we could have a little privacy..."

"Colonel Moran, Captain Watson, when do you want to tell your side of the story?"

"Uh, not just yet," John replied. "If you would just give us some space..."

"We've got a lot of adjusting to do, and it's just good to be heading home." Surely that would be enough to feed the media beast? Bugger, where was Becks?

John was starting to look a bit wild around the eyes as they pressed in closer, and one of the reporters, still calling out random question s managed to kick his cane causing him to stumble forward with a grunt of pain.

"Hey!" Seb was torn between snarling at the guy and helping John -- but he somehow managed to do both, steadying John at his good arm, and fuck, restricted vision was fucking killing him because it made a pan and scan incredibly choppy. "Back off!"

"Get out of the way or do you want tomorrows’ headlines to be war heroes assaulted by paparazzi?" Becks strident tones cut through the babble. "I'm sure your employment prospects would be just fantastic after that wouldn't it?"

"Let's get out of here," John said in a angry humiliated tone. He really hated his reliance on the cane and that just added insult to injury.

John didn't need that shit, and Seb was trying to keep his temper in check as he got behind John, with Becks in the lead. It was better to just keep his mouth shut.

Becks led them to her car like Moses parting the waves, undeterred by their insistence on speaking to Seb and John.

"In you get," she said.

He got John in, and then helped him scoot in with a hand at his hip, the damned cane caught against his shin for a moment. "Unbelievably nosy buggers."

"Jesus." John muttered, still tense and sounding upset. "Sorry, did I hit you?"

"You'd think that not crowding in around two jumpy soldiers would be fucking common sense," Seb muttered, sliding an arm over John's shoulders as Becks started to drive forward. "Christ. No, it's all right."

"I wanted to fucking well clock them with the cane," John replied, simmering with apparent anger.

"Just as well you restrained yourself," Becks said. "We need them on our side, but they were pushing their luck and they knew it."

Seb twisted, looking out the rear window as Becks drove out of the parking garage. Madness, just madness, and he was tense and wanting to hide John from it. "I don't think they cared." 

"Oh, my comment there was a threat," she said. "And they know it. After Diana, they are on thin ice."

Seb laughed, twisting back around and glancing at John. "Yeah, well, you're not going to go speeding off to try to outrun them. Shit, all it'll take is father to show up, and they'd self-vacate right off the lawn."

"Well he's not invited just yet, I'll hold him in reserve," Becks said. "You okay John?"

"Yeah, just embarrassed," he answered with a bit of a sigh. "Stupid bloody leg. It's got no right to screw up."

"It is, though." Seb shrugged his shoulder as he settled in a little better, because John was feeling bristly and that. That was expected, that was all right. Everything was supposed to suck and they could rest soon. Really rest, not hiding out in the hospital.

"Yeah." John huffed.

"Well you can fight it out for that long awaited first bath," Becks suggested.

"Thanks for picking us up," Seb murmured, leaning his head back against the back seat. "Jesus."

"Wasn't exactly going to make you take a taxi home was I?" Becks replied. "Then we'll have dinner."

And then, then he and John could brainstorm a little. Work out what they might do together, because yeah. They hadn't talked about that much, because talking about that assumed that they had to move on.

They had mentioned plans of living together but not actually gotten much further. He still couldn't believe it, that he and John had somehow become a relationship. 

But they were whatever they were. Comfortable, easy, even as he struggled to not be too... smothering, too all-present. Because that was something he was damn good at, being overwhelming when he had too much free time. "You okay?"

John flicked a quick smile. "Nothing that a little inappropriate "shenanigans" won't cure," he said.

"Hey I heard that," Becks said. "Just make sure the kids don't."

"Hey, when have I ever been inappropriate in front of the kids? Barring swearing," Seb defended.

"When did you stay at mine with a boyfriend," she replied. 

"I'm usually single when I'm coveting a spot in your guest room. There's a pattern there, Becks." He drawled it, keeping it light, but yeah. He'd brought a lot home to meet his family, but not to actually stay.

That made John unusual in himself. "Mmm, well we'll be out most of the day," she replied. "In case you hadn't remembered."

"Hmn? Oh, oh, yes." Work and school, and that wasn't bad at all. He and John would have the place to themselves. 

"I'll leave you a list of chores. Jerry will be pleased he won't have to do them.” She glanced in the mirror. "When you are up to it."

"We'll help you out," John said. "It's the least I can do."

It would give them the space to sort of get their shit together. "Won't be a problem." He opened his eye, and looked over to try to gauge John's expression. He looked faintly anxious but only from the way there was a faint frown line on his forehead. 

"I know," Becks said. "Won't be long getting home. Got decent coffee and tea as well. "

"Thanks." He offered it quietly, still watching John. He didn't have much by way of worry, but his favorite coping technique had always been to just focus on that very moment, and John... John was a worrier.

John worried about the future, worried about what people thought, even when he was making a stand against them. 

They drove in silences, the busy London streets flowing past hypnotically, lulling them into a sense of security.

"Here we go," Becks said as she rounded a corner and pulled in. "Everyone out."

He eased out first, held the door open for John while he stretched out cramped muscles and looked around familiar grounds. 

He heard almost immediately, "Uncle Seb!" from two voices and his niece and nephew came running down the front door steps to meet him.

He bent down a little, leaning down for hugs because the two of them were rushing him in glee. "Hey, oof, what've you two been up to?"

"Waiting for you to get here!" Louise said as if this was self-evident, clinging to him like an affectionate limpet.

"And you've been ages!" Tommy said.

"It was a long trip," he smiled, hugging them both tightly, tight enough that Tommy squirmed. He loosened his arms a little. "You have to tell me what you've been doing in school!"

"Loads of things and..."

"Tommy, you and Lou can help take Uncle Seb's and...Uncle John's things in for them," Becks ordered. "Plenty of time for talking in a bit."

"Okay, right. Right..." He stood up, loosed them, and turned, glancing at John. "Tommy, Louise, this is John. He was on the same long trip as I was."

"Hello," John said smiling at them both. "I've heard quite a bit about you both. I only believed half of it."

"Mum said you were hurt with Uncle Seb too!" Tommy said.

"Tom, what did I say about asking those questions?" Becks interrupted.

"I wasn't asking, I was just *saying* Mum," Tommy sulked a little.

The edge of Seb's mouth twitched. "Nah, it's okay. We're pretty much all right again, so it's all right. Here, do you want to carry pillows?" He took a back step to the car to grab their bags.

"I can carry more than pillows!" he said grabbing them.

"I've got a bag!" Louise said grabbing it and heading off, chased by her brother.

Another man appeared at the door way. "You need some help there?"

He lifted a hand to greet Jeremy, watching John take in the moment of chaos that had to be disconcerting. They could be a little overwhelming, and the run in with the reporters had gotten him going. "Hey, Jeremy."

"Seb, good to see you," Jeremy replied. "Someone kept hogging all the visiting privileges."

"Ah, we were crap entertainment anyway." He kept looking over at John, but just for a moment, moved in closer and gave his brother in law a hug. "Jeremy, this is John Watson. John, my brother in law."

"Good to meet you," John said offering his hand on reflex.

"Likewise. I hear you guys are going to be cooking for us sometime," Jeremy said grabbing the rest of the bags with Becks. "I'm hoping the cooking gene is hereditary."

Seb smirked, "Well, the end result is good, but the mess in the kitchen won't be pretty." And John had gone quiet and tight, so he probably needed space. A little quiet. "Hey, why don't we get inside and get settled...?"

"Good idea. I'll put the kettle on," Jeremy said taking his bag up the stairs.

"Sorry John, the room is upstairs," Becks said as she took bags inside for them. "If we had one downstairs I would have moved it around for your leg."

"It's okay, it's not like there is anything really wrong with it," John said 

"It hurts. I think that counts as something wrong with it." Seb loomed up behind John as he took the stairs with a careful, slow pace. Just in case he fell or the carpeting was weird. They went on walks at the hospital for PT, for John's PT, but it was still something that made him uneasy. He’d seen John go down more than once, cane or not.

"Mmm. Nothing they can find." John made his way slowly up the stairs steadily.

"On the right John," Becks called. "Kids if you are bouncing on the bed in there..."

He was sure he heard a spring sproing, but Louise stepped out into the hallway first, giggling, and hanging onto the doorjamb for a moment. John reached the top of the stairs, and Seb stayed close, ready to steady him as he gained ease going down the hall. "Thanks for dragging our stuff up."

"Well, you know the rules of hospitality. You're guests up to a week, after that it's every man for himself," Beck said with a smile. "You guys get unpacked and I call you in a little while for a cuppa okay?"

"Thanks." He lingered, mostly watching John look like he was having a bit of a fall out with himself. Since everything had gone to shit, John had been about as even keeled as Seb was on a good day.

They ushered the kids out, and then they were left temporarily to their own devices. John sat down on the edge of the bed looking quite stressed. 

"You're not doing okay." He didn't make it a question, as he sat beside John on the bed. 

John looked down at his hands. "I'm being taken in by strangers," he said in a low voice. "My own sodding sister can't get her act together to even visit, or offer, because of what my ordeal has done to *her*."

"We'll, we're a bit weird, but calling us strangers is going out on a limb." Seb flattened fingers against John's good shoulder, and bugger, he was on the wrong side to really see. He had an excellent view of John's hands and the side of his own nose. "Your sister is a prat, and I'm sorry that she is. She doesn't know what she's missing out on."

"I don't want to go there, and I'm grateful for this. It just... struck me. I used to joke about the world revolving around her but... I really thought she would step up if there was ever a real emergency and I needed her, you know?"

"Yeah. I do." There was a comfort in knowing that when things went to shit for him, Becks was there. And when things went weird for Becks, he helped when he could. They were a very small family, whittled down by age and death over the years, and they'd both seen what happened when people thought there was no one there. And he had every bloody withdrawal tendency that he had to fight through when things went wrong to reach out to her, because injured Morans found a quiet dark piece of underbrush to die under, much like big cats. "We've got firsthand experience in what happens when you... When you don't notice and reach out and help, all right?" They had a lot to focus on right there's it's themselves, and he still felt guilty about Brook and all of the other men he'd lost on the deployment. The ones who'd died.

"Yeah. I'm sorry I just... I guess it hit me that it really has been all about her since we were younger," John exhaled. "Your sister is brilliant. Her family is brilliant and I'm never going to have that unless I go and get it."

He was shit at giving comfort. Completely shit at it, but he turned his head and nudged his nose against John's neck. "You have it, if you want it."

John gave an almost surprised chuckle. "You're like a big cat you know that?" It seemed to surprise him out of his depressed contemplative zone.

"Yeah, it's been said." He stayed leaned in like that, comfortable and close because he could. "I still mean it. Family is what you make it."

"Yeah. Guess I'm worried that I screwed up my last one. Don't want to screw up with you," John said his hand finding Seb's hair and carding through it absently. It had grown a bit longer in the hospital than he normally wore it but he liked the feel of John's fingers running through it.

He might as well not just break regulation, but blow it away entirely. "I'm surprisingly hard to screw up with." He'd ruined a good thing or two himself a few times, but he was going to try to not. It had been easier to be a fuck up when he was younger. "And I somehow doubt you're responsible for your sister being a human black hole."

"I pretty much was responsible for her until the Army started sending me off all over the place," John replied. "I'm just...really grateful I've got you. I don't know what I would have done."

"Goes both ways." He straightened up a little, his arm still around John. "I've been known to go to a bad place pretty quick left to my own devices." He had a gambling habit in his twenties that had gotten rather hairy, and while he liked to think he'd kept it hidden from Becks, yeah, that was unlikely.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." John seemed certain of that. Seb had no idea how he could be that certain, but he really was. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get so… bloody teenage angst. I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

"I dunno, this massive upheaval we've had. Might be what's up." He pressed his mouth against the edge of John's jaw. "You up to going downstairs for a cuppa?"

"Yeah, yeah okay," John said. "I'm okay, really." He kissed him back.

He let the kiss linger, carry on a bit, a promise of what they might finally get back to doing with a bit of privacy. Then he pulled back, and moved to sort of help John up. "Good. I'm going to try to notice when it's not, so."

"Do I get to use the hot water first in the bath later?" John asked trying for a lighter tone.

"Yeah." He waited to pull away until John was standing and he had the cane in hand. "And of course, I'm more than happy to help."

"Well that depends on the size of the bath doesn't it?" John gave a half smile. "Downstairs we go for a decent proper brewed cup of tea."

"The bath's big enough," Seb smirked. John was mostly quiet down the stairs, but the tenor of the quiet had changed and he relaxed a little once they were both on the first floor again. 

"John was pulling himself together, and he seemed perfectly okay as they went into the lounge. 

"The kids were running around doing something, and Becks was over in the kitchen where she could just about see them.

"Get comfy, I'll snag it." He was the healthier of the two of them, given that his brain plaque seemed gone.

He had been more worried than he had let on, but John had been very good at interpreting the doctor speak into something understandable. "You know how I like it."

"There's a joke in there that I'm going to be good and not rise to." He ducked into the kitchen, laughing a little.

"You down for tea?" Becks said as she was busy putting the roast in. "We've got beef today."

"How many roast potatoes should I do?" Jeremy asked.

"That depends," Becks pointed out. "How many are you going to eat?" 

Seb tried to not smirk as he rummaged cabinets for mugs. "Yeah, we're down. Anything I can help with?"

"Kettle’s boiled you make the drinks. If you want a coffee we have a machine...courtesy of dad last Christmas," she said gesturing.

"Excellent. I got a three page handwritten diatribe about why I'm a failure. I suspect I might finagle a Starbucks gift card this year. What'dya think?" He started with the tea first, because it needed time to steep, and coffee was less time sensitive as far as his tastes went.

"I get better gifts because he won't get to see his grandchildren if he pisses me off," Becks replied. "Lets go for 22 potatoes. Everything okay upstairs?"

"Yeah, it's excellent. Thanks." He dug out the tea bags next, and went about the dull step by step process of making tea. It was almost relaxing. "It's good to leave the hospital."

"Yeah, I can imagine." Becks was moving in a practiced sort of dinner making dance with Jeremy as they darted in and out of cupboards and got things ready. "We've nearly got everything ready, we can have a drink and rescue John in a minute. I expect the kids have got him by now."

"He's decent with kids," Seb offered, throwing a little sugar into his own cup and John's before pouring. "I've seen him handle enough injured kids."

"I forgot he would have that sort of experience," Jeremy said. "Okay, veggies ready...?"

"Yes, and I think that's it." Becks seemed relieved and accomplished at the same time. 

"You didn't have to put on this big a spread for us, but thank you." He would've been happy with some warm take away, but the roast smelled like it was going to be good.

"Have you seen the kids eat?" Becks replied. "I have to do this most weekends. To the lounge..."  
They headed into the other room to find John bookended by Tommy and Louise who were plying him with questions.

"Tea." He set it down in front of John after a bit of spatial navigation, catching his eyes to gauge how he was doing. 

"Thanks," John said.

"Uncle John knows a lot about other places," Tommy said. "Just like you!"

Yep, quick on the uptake, his sister's kids. "That's because John's a soldier and a doctor. He's seen a lot." A lot more disaster relief, a lot of injury care, where Seb focused on precisely inflicting injuries.

"Maybe not as much as you Seb," John replied. "I'm not as well traveled. But I've done a few tours in various places."

"Eh, I think your tours were more impactful, where mine were mostly full of impacts." He settled in with his own cup of tea -- coffee could wait for after tea -- and grinned at the kids. "So what've you been up to?"

"Not much," Tommy said even as Louise poked him. "That's not true, we've done loads of things," she added.  
  
"I guess... we went on holiday in the summer. I swam in the sea and I even used a jet ski!" Tommy announced.

"With dad." Lou corrected.

"That's still pretty fun, though, huh?" And over his holiday he'd, well. His last really good holiday had been with John, but nothing that they'd expected. It was funny that it felt ages and ages ago, rather than a year ago. "What're you planning on doing over the Christmas hols?"

"It was the best!" Tommy declared.

"We're staying here for Christmas. Mum says we'll have to visit Grandad, but we can go ice-skating at one of the big outdoor rinks in the city. And we're going to choose a Pantomime to go too but Tommy and me can't decide which one." Louise explained.

He took a sip of the tea, watching John slouch back in the chair, getting comfortable. "Ah, I'm not an expert on Pantos. John, you have any recommendations?"

"I think they all should be fun," John replied. "I haven't been to one for years. Depends which story you like." 

"I want to see Jack and the Beanstalk but Lou wants Sleeping Beauty." Tommy showed his disgust at that.

"Sleeping Beauty is actually a pretty gruesome and horrifying tale," Seb said, and then wished he hadn't said it because the moment they asked 'why' he was going to have an awful lot of tap-dancing to do.

"Sleeping Beauty has the guy from Eastenders in it," Lou pointed out and the kids started bickering about the merits of the show.

"Good god, by the time they decide there will be no tickets left," Jeremy said with an exaggerated sigh. "You can come too if you want, though we assumed you might want to skip that."

"What, room full of kids yelling at the stage -- why on earth would I take a pass on that?" Seb drawled it, looking over his shoulder at Jeremy. "We might go?"

"Yey!" Tommy bounced in excitement.

"Maybe you should choose which one," Becks suggested slyly.

"Oh, make me be the bad guy," Seb scoffed, glancing at John. He had a desperate hope that John would give him the right answer.

"Well, you know in the Disney version of Sleeping Beauty there was a dragon. Does this one have a dragon?" John asked raising his eyebrows. "I really like dragons."

"Uhm, is there?" Tommy asked Lou, who just nodded slyly. She could tell she'd won, and that was a very inherited expression there.

"Dragons are pretty cool. They might even get it to breathe fire!" John said as if he was genuinely looking forward to it.

"What do you think Tom?" Jeremy asked.

"Uhm..." He squirmed, and then sighed. "Well, okay. *Only* if it has a dragon."

"Thanks Tom," John said seriously. "I guess you get to pick the next time there is a choice."

"That's right, you get first choice next time we go somewhere kiddo," Becks said and that brightened Tommy up a lot.

That and dragons. "And if I get a dragon. Dragons are cool." He was still fidgety, but that was good as far as Seb was concerned.

"Oh, hey. When I get my camera back, wait until you see some of the reptile pictures I took for you, Tommy." 

"You did? What type?" he asked sounding enthusiastic. "Did you take them in Afghanistan?"

"Yep. There're these lizards with purple armpits and a blue neck that're pretty cool looking," Seb grinned. "As soon as my stuff gets here I can share."

"When are you expecting it?" Jeremy queried and John seemed to be absorbed in drinking his tea obviously savoring it.

But calmer than before, which had been a sort of tremulous energy to the stillness. "Last week." Seb took a sip, and added, "So any day now."

"Cool!" both the kids declared making John smile.

"There are a lot of pictures of sand," John pointed out. "Patches of sand where a lizard was up to the point you were pressing the button."

"Couple hundred close ups of sand." He chuckled into his tea. "There was also a saw viper I tried to get a picture of. If a snake ever holds still for you for a picture, *really* still, it's actually telling you to go fly a kite. I had to beat it to death with a rifle butt after it came at my boot."

"Cool!" Tom tried clambering on the arm of the sofa next to him. "Was it poisonous?"

"I would not have been happy if I'd had to patch that up," John put in.

"It was very poisonous and would have sucked to fix. My, huh, my staff Sargent found it under a truck and we all stood around it for a moment taking pictures like morons." Shit, he'd have to go through his pictures from that day, see if there were any if his soldiers who were gone. Even Brook had been out to see.

"Anti-venom was not always easy to come by," John said. "Snake bites can be really nasty."  
"Not that there wasn't already enough out there trying to get us." He lifted his eyebrows and took a sip of tea.

"Did you see any other snakes?" Tommy asked hopefully.

"Like, really big ones?" Lou it seemed was also interested.

"A few non poisonous ones. They have bright colors on them, and sleeker profiles. I'm not sure any of the pictures of those were any good." He took another sip of his tea. "There was a lot of cool wildlife."

"Tell us about it Uncle Seb, please!" Lou entreated and it seemed for once he was more interesting than the TV. He was pretty sure that eventually the novelty would wear off.

* * *

It was the quietest moments that were the most unexpected, living with Seb's sister and her family. Jeremy had been called in; Becks was curled up with a book, while Seb led the kids in some kind of miserable attempt to rake up the garden before it turned entirely to a muddy leaf compost. John had his laptop out, and was looking for an apartment, and they were generally avoiding the media folk who'd haunted the house for a week before backing off.

John knew at some point they would have to give an interview but he wanted it to be on his terms and not on theirs. Even now, with the therapy they were having to attend, he was pathetically affected by recollecting anything to do with what had happened and he was sick to death of feeling shaky and incompetent.  
  
It was possible he and Seb over compensated in being helpful.

But it was something they could do. Seb could make breakfast, and help with dinner, and the garden; John could tidy and vacuum and was perhaps a bit better of a help with homework than Seb.

"Having any luck?" Becks asked, looking up. It was relaxing, just sitting and poking around for a flat. He had a budget they needed to roughly work within, and it would get better, he hoped, when they managed to get out there and get jobs.

"People don't seem to want to be letting flats just before Christmas,” John said, "Nothing even likely aside from the really dodgy ones." The flats that were most likely rat holes and crack dens.

"I'd rather you just both stay here until after the hols, John, rather than move into a dodgy flat." She slid a finger between the pages of her book. "Seb's first flat was a hell hole, and none of us want to even reminisce about that place."

"That bad huh?" John said. "I lived in a crappy flat too when I was med student. But it was with some others. I don't want to move into something really bad, but ...we need jobs really."

"Seb's going to try to pass his driving test on Tuesday. Maybe before jobs... you should sort of spend a few days wandering around the current civilian world. I don't know about you, but I know Seb hasn't spent a day since he was 16 that wasn't in junior officer corps, or the army."

"Mmm. I have been out a bit," he said. "When I was training, I was out then." 

""You're probably a little better grounded than Seb," Becks said, smiling a little. "I don't mean it badly, just. That there's an adjustment period when you get out that you need to think of tacking on to the end of your recovery time." 

John snorted. "Yeah, that's going to be longer than we think." Staying at Becks’ was like a cocoon protecting them both and he was thankful for it, but he was still completely screwed up and enough of a doctor to realize his abrupt changes in appetite, the insomnia, nightmare and other symptoms were related to PTSD. He needed to address it, but the question was how. His therapist was... well, he needed a new one. And Seb was savvy-ing his as well, which did him no good to constantly be out-thinking them. He put an excellent face on, but John could see it in his startle reaction, and how he went quiet sometimes. 

"Let it take all the time it needs. I know Seb wants to get right out there, but... I worry about you both." 

John blinked. He had hoped he was concealing his apparent disintegration a little better. "Why?" he asked. "We're taking things slowly."

"Right now. In a week, though..." She shrugged her shoulders. "I know my brother. If he's up and about, he's going to push himself too hard. I have to assume you're the same way."

"We can't stay here forever," John said. "Though right now it seems really attractive." He smiled a little at her.

"I could threaten to build a carriage house in the back lawn." The edges of her mouth twitched a little. "I do worry, though. The army was everything for Seb. I was just generally worried that he'd have to eventually *retire*, and that would've been a decade or two away..."

"We'll find him something," John said firmly. "I don't want him unhappy. There are other jobs." 

Becks leaned forward a little. "He's always struggled with depression. And I know you've been having nightmares."

He looked away a moment. "Sorry. Another reason to move out huh?" He tried for light and joking but it was a bit flat.

"No, I just." She looked torn for a moment, which was also an expression he wasn't used to seeing on Harry. "Can I recommend you to *my* therapist, and I'll help get your referrals shifted? She's good, and half her patients are former military."

"I hate therapy," John admitted. "It just makes things worse. But I guess if this is a half way decent one..."

"If you could just try. I don't know if it would work for you, but if you go, Seb will go..." And maybe at least one of them would stick with it. That was rather cunning of Becks.

He grimaced. "Okay, but if they are as useless as the idiots from the hospital, I reserve the right to not go back."

She nodded. "No, no, that's fine. I know it doesn't work for everyone, but I know my brother's history enough to know that if he tries to work it all out himself, he's going to make choices that're bad for himself, and you if you stay with him."

"What do you mean?" John had a hard time reconciling that with the Colonel, the one in control and in charge, responsible and addicted to spreadsheets.

He watched her hesitate -- maybe she wasn't comfortable saying it. "He had a drinking problem as a teen. He struggled with gambling in his twenties, which wasn't helped by the fact that he's a natural card counter and *good* at it. He tried to kill himself after he did his stint in Kosovo -- it wasn't just that, but his boyfriend cheated on him and it just." She waved a hand slightly. "And I know he's really stabilized and found himself since then, but this is a massive shift and I worry about what he'll do this time."

The floorboard creaked behind them, and with it John heard a resigned sigh. "And there goes my next career as a sneak thief."

"I was just telling John your misspent youth," Becks said without any hint of embarrassment even though John felt like he wanted to drop through the floor. "As well you know."

"You've only gotten the edited highlights of my misspent adulthood, Becks. John's already been read into that. I still think chasing a tiger down a drainpipe should outrank that time I tried to shake someone down for a debt and got a tooth knocked out." Seb sat down beside John on the sofa, posture a little stiff.

"Oh, I know I don't know the whole story," she replied raising an eyebrow. "But I have had to find some things out where you haven't told me."

"Look, I'm not going to be put off," John said firmly. 

"If you were, then you'd never last more than 6 months with my brother," Becks said with brutal honesty.

John could see what she was doing - laying it out because it was better to scare him off now if he wasn't committed to this than make Seb completely emotionally dependent on him and then yank the supports from under him.

It was honestly probably already too late for that, to make that not be a stinging wound, though John had no urge to go. "So, I only caught half of this, Becks. John has his own history as well. That's what people have. Baggage."

"I know that. But tripping over that baggage and then smacking yourself in the face is not helpful," Becks said. "The pair of you are hurt more than you realize and things could be difficult."

"Okay Becks, I get it," John interrupted feeling determination. "I know you are trying to protect Seb in case I can't stand the heat but I think I've been with him at the point where things are as bad as it can get okay? I’ve wanted Seb since the first time we were together and that predated any of this trauma."

"By a long shot," Seb agreed. Even if it wasn't a story either of them could really tell. "I'm staying... Aware of how I feel."

"Okay, I'll back off," Becks said holding up her hands, but she looked a little pleased at the response. "But you are going to a decent therapist if I have to drag you there."

"I'll give it a shot." He leaned back in the sofa, generally smelling like hard work and old leaves. "Also, your kids have adopted a snail. They wanted me to ask if they can keep him."

"Bloody spongebob squarepants has a lot to answer for," Becks said getting up. "I better go and have a word."

John had no idea what she was talking about.

"Pineapple under the sea," Seb hummed, watching his sister unfold herself from her seat to head to the back yard. "Sorry, you don't really need that."

"I have no bloody idea what is going on," John said wearily. "No one is selling or letting anything decent."

"No one wants to move before the holidays," Seb shrugged, sliding an arm behind John. He peered at his screen. John kept erring towards mid city, because he *liked* London. "January is better. Just... Think of this as extended leave.

"It's pretty damn comfortable," John admitted. Even that embarrassing moment had been nothing compared to life with Harry. "Becks knows I'm having nightmares."

Seb was quiet for a moment, and kissed John's shoulder, against the fabric of his jumper. "Yeah. Yeah, you have been."

"Sorry." They were lurid, overly vivid and horror movie sensation saturated dreams. People dying, details missed the first time taking on a life of their own. "Maybe I should take the tranqs after all."

He hated them with a passion though.

"Don't take it if you don't want to. We could talk about it next time. I'm usually up then, anyway." Laying there quietly, rubbing at John's back after he laid down again. They didn't talk about it, though.

"I can't go on waking every one up like this," John said. "It's ridiculous. Seriously."

“I. I don't want you to take something you don't want to. We're all right. They're definitely better than they were in the hospital. It's getting better." That was a hell of a positive spin, because sure, he didn't need to be strapped into bed at night.

He leaned into Seb. "You seem to be dealing better than I am. Am I missing some way to... deal?" he asked in a low voice.

"Oh, I'm very carefully not dealing with it. I don't want to deal with it. I want to get my driving license back, and then I don't know what the next goal is. It feels miserably short sighted, but it works. Couple of days at a time." And a lot of sitting around with John, lots of physical contact. Playing with the kids. They'd gotten to the point with flat hunting that they stared at the pictures of places and commented on the pluses and minuses of each.

"Okay. Maybe trying to fix everything doesn't work," John answered. "I just want to stop falling apart in slow motion."

"It's all right to let it go, sometimes. Anyway, slow motion means I can sort of go behind you and pick the pieces up." His fingers stretched a little, lazy contact. 

"I'm not used to being the one falling apart," he muttered. "I've always been the one with my shit together. You have to be to be a surgeon." John winced a moment, suddenly conscious that might not be an issue any more.

"We could always try looking people up as well. Not too early to start shaking out the metaphorical rolodex." The blessing of it had been that without phones and without their work email handy, the only people John had heard from were old, dear friends.

He was pleased to hear from Mike even if he had felt uncomfortable with sympathy and pity. It made him cringe. "You got any who won't be weird about the whole thing?"

"Not a one," Seb offered almost chipperly. He probably had a string of ex boyfriends who'd seen it on tv. At least the tabloids hadn't found any, or any of John's girlfriends, or odd one night stands. He supposed it spoke to the sorts of people he shagged, that none of them seemed interested, yet, in turning a profit on someone they broke up with. Time and the Daily Fail would tell.

"Mm. Yeah, me neither," John said exhaling. "I don't know if I want to deal with people poking at me for the juicy details."

"I'm not really relishing calling up the old sas unit and going 'I've got one eye now -- you hiring?' I need to get range time in before I do that."

"What do you want to do?" John asked. "You still want to do the same sort of things?"

"There isn't much to do that's like that, though. Commanding soldiers. Or sniping, that's legal for non military. I'm going to end up one of those pathetic old bastards who does arms dealing, telling 'back in my day' stories." He slouched a little. That... Also didn't sound appealing.

"How about… private sub-contractors?" John asked. "I mean, you know we saw some of those over there didn't we? Or training."

"Could do. Yeah." Training, Seb believed in training. "I'll still call around." He twitched his fingers, rubbing along John's spine. "We could go out once I pass my driving test. Unescorted."

"Now steady on..." John said lightly. "How well do you know London anyway? It's been a while but I did my residency here."

"How well do I know the nice parts? Middling. How well do I know the shitty areas? Extremely well. You can navigate for me." Navigate him somewhere near a tube station, and not have him trying to drive on busy streets.

"You make it sound like I'd know the nice parts better," John answered with a smile. Maybe he could take Seb to dinner in that amazing Chinese they used to go to near St Barts.

"Well, I know doctors can get up to some concerted fun, but there's an air of respectability to what you all get up to." He started to stand up, smiling. "I'm going to put the tea on."

"Okay," John agreed. "Need a hand?" His leg was stiff and he'd left his cane somewhere.

"Sure. I figure the kids have finished getting a talking to, or will soon have a new snail friend." Seb reached to give John a hand up.

He took the help from Seb where he would have struggled up out of pride rather than accept it from anyone else. "So we've got a plan. You pass your test, we go out and hit the town...in a low key shopping type way."

"Yep. Couple of stores, maybe a good meal, come home." It all sounded low key, but predicated on Seb's ability to pass his test. Still, John was confident, and Seb was handling the depth perception change well. He squeezed John's fingers. "What could go wrong?"

* * *

Seb had been a little tired while he'd taken his driver test, and while the woman had seemed gently dismayed by his language, he had passed the test without a violation. Despite spending an hour or so awake in the middle of the night, petting John idly and talking quietly until they both dozed off. It wasn't the ideal circumstances to hear his name being called out in the middle of the night, not by a long shot.

He felt pretty proud about that, all in all, and was ready for a round of shopping.

Driving in London was not for the faint hearted but John seemed determined to do something as normal as Christmas Shopping as if that would in some way make things easier. Parking up had it's own perils, but navigating the underground might be a little challenging.  
  
Of course London before Christmas was...heaving with people.

Unbelievably heaving with people, and all Seb could think about was moving out for deployment in response to some human disaster event. Parking had been a hazard, but now... "Where to?"

John was just staring a little. "Uh, Jesus...I'd forgotten what it could be like. Well, Hamleys has all the toys in the world or we could stay off of the beaten track and poke around side streets."

"Off the beaten track. The kids like... Neat things." Seb wiggled his hand from side to side, keeping John on his good side as best he could.

"Okay well, we'll hit the side streets," John said heading off at a fair pace, for all his limp. He had been working the physio pretty hard and it showed.

For the better. He was carrying his cane, but walking with a purpose that left Seb trailing after him for a moment before falling back into step. "I never know what to get people."

"What do they like, what do they do as a hobby or in their free time?" John asked and Seb could see he was unconsciously scanning the street.

"Tommy likes outdoors, dinosaurs, and animals. He's very easy. Louise likes... Smart things. And reading." And Seb's taste in books probably didn't translate well.

"What about your sister? and Jeremy?" John asked as they moved quickly into a less crowded street. "It's been a few years but there used to be a gadget shop up here somewhere."

"Jeremy likes gadgets. So does my sister, actually, but useful ones." He looked sideways at John. And what to get him? The surprise would pretty much be out, but.

"Might get them done in one shop," John said with a faint smile. "Is there...anything you want?"

"Nah." He nudged his shoulder lightly against John's as they walked, hands tucked into his pockets. "New coat at worst. How about you?" Other than a laptop of his own.

"Not sure really," John said. "Maybe we'll see a few things when we shop. I have to get something for Harry I guess too. Hey, does your sister have a Kindle?"

"Nope. She's frugal, but I know she'd like a book that travels well. You're light years ahead of me on this, you know." He was just ghosting along behind John as they walked. Maybe some kind of robot for tommy. RCA toys. Something he could tinker with.

"She likes reading… I think that would be pretty good for her. I don't know your usual budget for her but maybe we could get that and some download vouchers for her."

It was hard to not smile like an idiot. "Yeah, we can do that. I like that idea, and she'd use it."

"Hey, we're pretty good at this," John said. "Still thinking about Jeremy though. Gadgets huh?"

"No, you're pretty good at this. I'm just agreeing. Uh, bugger, he's a Detective and he likes things he can use. Last year I got him some good binos for stakeouts, because the ones he had were shite, and it's something he never thought to get himself." There was a clot of people coming at them as they walked, and he ended up behind John with a hand on his shoulder just to get out of their way. There was an odd tight feeling in his chest as they kept forging ahead, but it was fine.

He couldn't help that surge of… not so much anxiety, as vigilance that kept rearing up when they walked through unknown place. He could feel the tenseness in John's muscles for all he looked relaxed as they were walking. "Uh, okay, what would a Detective use? Depends on the price range. Night vision stuff is pretty expensive...but does he have a really decent swiss army type knife? Or… what sort of phone does he have? Smart phones are pretty invaluable nowadays - I mean you can snap hi-res pictures, email them, that sort of thing."

"Mmhm, but he's got an office issued blackberry. Leatherman, or a really good tool knife, yeah. That's useful." He tucked his hands into his pockets again, and managed to get shoulder to shoulder with John. Too many people, too much of a restricted view of the world. "I think if I got him night vision, he'd spend more time breaking it and not-asking me to fix it than using it. But his current pocket knife is crap."

John automatically moved to buffer his blind side and nodded. "We could be done in one shop at this rate," he joked. "There must be something you want?" he asked hopefully. There was a sudden burst of sound from a group of people laughing as they came out of the shop near to them and John automatically flinched into him.

Seb was fairly sure he half pivoted when John flinched, orienting to a threat that wasn't there and for a moment they stood there bristling before he put a hand on John's shoulder again to get them both moving. "London has too many bloody people in it. Christ. Is it up ahead?" He wanted a sedative, he wanted to not feel keyed up. The only relief was that probably no one gave a shit, or looked twice at them because they were just two more blokes out holiday shopping, one with a cane and the other with an eyepatch. Who briefly blotted up the human sea's flow forward.

"Yeah. Do you get the feeling this is going to be the shortest shopping trip ever?" John replied. He pointed. "Thank god, it's still here."

He put on a burst of speed as if heading for cover. 

If the trip hadn't been naturally inclined that way, Seb was going to make it be. He kept up with John, scanning the area more frequently as they crossed the road and headed in through the wide double doors. It seemed, immediately, less crowded inside than it had with the milling folks outside. And it was warm enough that he could feel his nose.

It was jam pack full of things and there was indeed a lot of gadgets for young and old in there. It was pretty heartening that they might just buy things there and be able to escape. John was glancing around, looking at the stacks of toys and things. "There's a remote control T-rex there..." he pointed out. "Apparently with authentic savaging action." He grinned a little at that. 

"Apparently they were scavengers," Seb mused, reaching to touch the edge of the box. If he could keep his attention focused on John and the seemingly endless toys and *stuff* in the store, he knew he'd be in better shape. "So maybe the robot needs to be a little closer to the ground and a little less regal..." There were lots of robots, and *things*, and he crouched down where there were remote control bugs. They looked a little more mess-with-able. "Hmn, he likes to tinker and take things apart as well, so..."

"What about one of these make-a robot kits?" John suggested. "There's a few different types here. I mean they are basic but they look pretty okay."

"Could do..." He moved out of the crouch, holding onto the bug robot box and reached for one of the kits John was touching. "I think I'll be doing a prime imitation of a pack mule today."

"I can carry stuff, " John said with more optimism than practicality. "If we're not going to be long." It was almost like he was constantly reassuring himself of that fact. He was poking around in a different area and paused. "How about this for Louise? A Thumbprint "encoded" electronic journal. She's at that age where kids keep diaries and start writing bad poetry. Well Harry did."

"I mostly wrote elaborate plans for running away from home. Complete with booby traps for my bivvy. Did you do a diary?" He reached for that, and added it to his small stack, still poking about for something detailed as well. Makers, he was going to keep those kids making and doing and hands on with stuff if it killed him. 

"Christ, yeah. Used to write quite a bit. It was the only way I could.." John gestured a bit. "Things weren't great after my mum died. Dad went to pieces, I was 14 at the time and ended up sorting them all out but not you know, going out. Probably why I went a bit off the rails at uni for a bit." 

And while he generally knew the tenor of John's life, they were still revealing details in bits and snippets of conversation. And every once in a while, Seb was struck by eerie similarities. Apparently opposites attracting were a waste of time, when familiarity with different hobbies worked much better. "That's bloody creepy," he murmured, watching John's fingers linger on more robotic stuffed pet things. "Sorry, not you. Mum offed herself around the same time for me. Becks did what you did, I'd wager." He hoped he wasn't half the self centered shit Harry seemed to be, but it had occasionally be an effective coping mechanism. 

John shrugged. "Dad started drinking himself to death. Harry started her teenage rebellion early. Not an unusual story. Happens every day."

"That's a miserable shame," Seb murmured, leaning shoulder to shoulder with him for a moment, before snagging a little programmable. He wasn't sure. Hamster?  
"Hm. You don't have a drinking problem."

"Didn't have time or money. " John shrugged a little lopsided. "Kindles over here by the way. I was paying bills, shopping and all that. It all went to shit when I went to med school. Dad and Harry kicked off each others addiction."

"I just want to point out that you were responsible parent figure to poorly behaved parent and problematic younger gay sibling," Seb offered, "it's no wonder you get on with Becks." They headed for the kindles, with Seb carrying two gifts for each of the kids. He was going to need a basket at that rate, and some poor salesclerk took mercy on them.

"I can hold items at the front for you, if you'd like, Mr...?"

"Please, yes. Hold it under Moran? We've got a lot of shopping to do here." She was leaning in to take his highly electronic pile, and there was a purse to her lips, a curiosity. A gleam or a question of recognition. "Please don't."

"Yes, sir." She took the toys and headed for the front then, but it felt like a pall had descended over them as he shifted in closer to John to look at the kindles. Christ. Who knew what she'd seen or heard, or watched about them.

"I can't believe someone managed to pick us out," John muttered under his breath. "Bloody hell. Okay, lets try and get what we can and get out of here."  
"Agreed." Someone must have gotten a photo of them leaving the hospital, or... He wasn't sure, couldn't think on it. It was easier to reach out and grab one of the security devices kindled from the shelf. "Leatherman next, right?" He still needed to get John something.

"Yeah okay. They have some up here in the cabinets there?" John was visibly getting his shit together. They were doing okay. They could do this.

"If it's bigger than a pair of safety scissors, yes." If John could keep himself focused, Seb could as well, even as he scanned the area a little more intensely, holding onto the kindle as they moved. 

Unfortunately, when they got closer John hesitated and backed off. "Sorry, I'll just.. look over here a moment," he said with a forced smile. "You choose."

The cabinet had some large replica knives in there and it was pretty obvious what the issue was. 

"Right. Right. Yeah, uh. Won't take long." He stepped in closer to the cabinet, shifting away from the replica knives to get to the tools -- the ones that had screwdrivers and stuff in them, wire clippers, *useful* things, but a knife as well. The problem was that he'd still have to deal with a salesperson, which was increasingly feeling as if it were shifting from a bother to a threat, and he couldn't place why. Being known, he supposed. He'd spent his life in various states of anonymity and this was foreign.

The oh so helpful sale assistant who had recognized them and hadn't taken her attention a away from them seemed to recognize his need for help...or just hoped it existed as she materialized by his side. "Can I help you sir?" 

"Just the Leatherman there. The one with the case." He wanted nothing more than to finish quickly. What were the odds that they could enjoy lunch peacefully. 

Pretty remote at this rate. "Of course sir. One of the best there is," she said looking like she was stopping herself from saying more. "Do you have anything else?" 

A growing urge to never shop there again? Not likely what she meant. Seb shook his head, looking for John. "I don't know. We're just doing the holiday shopping." 

"Do you need any help or advice?" She asked brightly. 

John was loitering near some laptops, actually seeming to pay attention to them. 

"Uh, no. I'll swing past the checkout when we're done." Which was obvious, but also an opportunity for him to break contact. 

She seemed disappointed but, it gave him the opportunity to go pursue John. He was reading the laptop descriptions intently, but still noticed him approaching. "Hey, you got it?" 

"Yeah, up with the rest of the pile now." He nudged John's shoulder, still holding onto the kindle. "See anything?" 

"I guess I need to get a lap top of some description," John replied. "I can't borrow your sisters or your net book forever. No idea what to get though." 

"Hmm. Big screen, not too heavy... Fast." He watched John's intense concentration. 

"I'm not likely to need a gaming type machine...though I might want to stream TV," John admitted. He grimaced. "Maybe I should wait for the sales." 

“Christmas is coming." And there was the internet. That was lovely and faceless and protecting just then. 

John glanced at him. "Bit pricey for a Christmas gift," he said. 

He lifted his eyebrows.at John. "Single homeless colonel with no dependents. Christmas is coming, John." 

"Single homeless colonel who need to get a house and all the other shit that goes in one. Plus I am a doctor." John said but he was weakening a little, 

"Flat. That's cheaper. I think I have a flat's worth of crap in storage. I can't assure you anything matches, though. Have Becks tell you about crazy aunt Vivian some day." Crowded in close to John again, it was almost like privacy. 

“You're going to sneak off and get one no matter what I say aren't you?" John said with a faint smile. 

"Yes." He kept smiling at John, trying to not look smug. "I like doing things like that." 

"Well you got to give me some idea of something I can sneak off and get for you," John answered. 

"I have everything I want. We're both here in one piece." And he was obnoxiously hard to buy for. 

"Yeah, not helpful on the present front," John poked him a little. "There has to be something. Otherwise it'll be a bloody silk tie." 

"I appreciate the reminder that I have to trade my uniform for suits." He looked at the laptop brand and general style that John was still standing in front of with more than a little interest. "I'll think about it." 

"Okay," John looked at him. "So, is there anyone else you buy for? I ought to get something for Harry but she likes… well fashion things so it might have to be a voucher."

"Nope. Family is pretty small to me." He shrugged his shoulders. "I should get Harry something awkwardly earnest just so she can angst about it."

"Huh, yeah, you're right," John smiled a little. "Not a bad plan."

"I was thinking a tin of coffee with, maybe. A mitten warmer on it. I'm not sure." He waved a hand slightly, mostly because it was good to watch John grin like that.

"Well, she certainly like's coffee, that's true," John considered. "I could get her something choice."

"Yeah, but it needs the awkward factor," Seb insisted as he kept half eyeing the laptops for John.

"A comedy mug with Best Sister in the world on it?" John said wryly.

"Nice. Would she sense the bitterness?" Seb asked, leaning in a little.

"More than likely she would be oblivious," John said. "Maybe it should be Best Alcoholic Sister in the World.”

He wanted to lean in to kiss John, to make it better, but it was easier to reach to touch his elbow. "Let's check out and go get lunch."

"Yeah. Somewhere quieter than here," John agreed. "You paying and I'll pay my share to you later?"

"Yeah." He nudged John's shoulder before he turned back towards the checkout.

It didn't take too long to buy everything and the sale assistant packed it all up. "Here we go sir and.. uh.." she rather shamefaced put two of the novelty super hero pin badges. "From us at the store."

He wasn't sure whether to stare blankly at her, or fake a smile, mainly he was sure he ended up doing something in between. That was up there with the time he received great praise for being an excellent target early on in his career. "Uh, thanks." Because it was polite, and what he was supposed to say as he reached for the bag. Who knew what she felt?

John was lurking near the door as he made his escape. "Okay, pretty successful for one stop shop," he said. "I have to agree, I seriously need to sit down somewhere away from this."

"She threw in superhero badges," Seb deadpanned quietly as he pushed the door open for John. It was a hefty couple of bags, and he'd feel better about a sit down.

"Oh." John cleared his throat. "Well, she was probably trying to be nice. You know, say she thought we were... something."

"Not sure what to say to that." He fell in close with John once they were back on the street again. He mostly just wanted to be left alone. There was nothing heroic about any of that.

"Well, people are going to be weird like that. Where shall we go now?"

Sometimes John was just so much more together than Seb was. "Lunch?"

"There used to be a place a couple of streets over. Haven't been there for a couple of years though." John shivered. "Bloody hell, it's cold now. Or we just find the nearest place."

"Nearest place sounds good. C'mon, this is nothing compared to the cold we were used to." He kept a tight hold on the bags, but mostly let John lead the way.

"True." And Seb knew he was thinking of that cold night when John was slowly bleeding out into shock and an infection was creeping into his brain and the two of them lying there wrapped together in the stolen jeep.

John headed in a vague direction, and there seemed to a cluster restaurants up ahead.

He didn't much care what it was, or where they stopped, as long as there was a corner seat in the back and they served something warm and not too poshly annoying London.

John was staying very close although he looked like he was going to hit people with his cane as they got too close. He gestured. "Well… not sure if this the same place. It looks like Chinese."

"I'll give it a shot." He wanted to jokingly offer John a drink, but shit. Not after all the discussion on Harry, he wasn't going to

"Well I suppose the worse we can get is food poisoning," John smiled a little as he entered the place.

"Decent excuse to hide in bed for a day, side effects aside." He held the door for John, and then shadowed him to the hostess table and they were shown to a table. Nice, but not too nice. Not nice enough that he was worried.

John asked for a table in what he recognized to be a defensible sort of corner and they were left with the menu. "I think maybe this is the son of who use to run it. Some bits look familiar."

"If you want to find a card game or cheap cigarettes, that's about my natural ability to find," Seb drawled, tucking their bags between his leg and the wall.

"London is pretty much what I think of as home. Well, some parts," John replied. "Jesus, I've been to one shop and I'm shattered.

"Completely," Seb agreed, looking over the menu as thoughtfully as he could. "I, uh... Jesus. It's going to take a while to build stamina back up."

"I thought I would be… better than this," he replied. "Mind you I was not good at Christmas shopping before."

"I loathe holiday shopping," Seb murmured, leaning forward. "Becks said I take the joy out of it. In and out."

"I like giving presents, but shopping for them..no." John fiddled with the menu. "How hungry are you?"  
"You want to split a couple of things?" He needed to unwind before getting behind the wheel, more than anything.

"Yeah, "John nodded. "You like crispy duck?"

"Deep fried duck? Heck yeah." He glanced over the menu, and added, " and, dumplings?"

"Sure. The duck will come with the pancakes... but yeah. Makes it easy." John caught the eye of the waitress and swiftly ordered.

Seb relaxed in the chair, stretching his legs out carefully. "I'm glad it's quiet in here." There were other people, focused on their meals, their problems, and that was good.

"Yeah me too. I am." John exhaled. "I am much more freaked by people than I thought."

"Yeah, it was a little crowded in there." And they'd mostly kept their heads down and focused as they'd shopped, and it had still been too much.

"Bloody PTSD," John grumbled. "I know enough of the symptoms to spot it."

Seb slid his fingers around his water glass. John had woken up loud and panicked in the night, and he'd laid there with him, quiet in the dark until everyone was calm enough to sleep again. That was more of a hint than the crowds. "I think between us, we have enough of the symptoms."

"Probably," John agreed. "You need someone not disturbing your sleep really but… I'm too damn selfish to sleep alone."

"If I'm really concerned about not getting enough sleep, I'll hit the couch. We're still getting more than we did down range. No random videoconference s, no meetings to plan at 0430. No emergency calls in the night."

"Yeah well the common opinion was that you never slept," John said. "As you seemed to know everything." He smiled a little. "You told me back in Germany that we'd all been caught. I want to know when you caught me."

"Conex box." Seb waggled his eyebrows and took a sip from his straw that was probably a bit more than needed to be done. "There was an ongoing battle about the reverse osmosis machines, and I was doing a general perimeter search."

"Oh come on that was just a quickie," John said. "What were the odds you'd find me at that moment in time huh?"

"Low, but I still did. Remember, I'm a hunter. Walk quietly enough and you find out all sorts of things." And could gather the context to know if it was a problem or not.

"And most likely I'll never ever get to sneak up on you," John answered.

"No, not unless I want you to," he agreed. "Still, it was surprisingly useful. Kept me in the service a few times before being gay was legal."

"Just as well." He smiled again, relaxing even more. "What happens at your sisters at Christmas then?"

"We'll be hassled into setting up the tree. Moderate decoration, lots of overeating. She usually hosts a couple of parties, but I suspect she'll go to a few and not... further open her house this year." Seb took another sip of his water, and then added, "My father will show up."

"On Christmas day?" John asked. He knew a little about his father but not all the details.

Seb rubbed fingers at the edge of his jaw. "Usually Christmas eve. My sister usually cooks the big meal Christmas eve, and it's a very solemn event. Christmas day... is a bit more relaxed. Jeremy and I have exploded the kitchen in previous years, made a big breakfast, and you sort of just lounge through the day. Missed it last year." Hell of a way to be home that year.

"Oh right… Well that could be fun. Christmas was hit and miss at our place. Two alcoholics in the family doesn't mix well with this time of year," John said. "So is your Dad going to disapprove of me?"  
It looked like he was trying to make light of it but that seemed to worry John.

"Yeah." Seb laughed, ducked his head a little. "Christ, yeah. He disapproves of me, it sort of spreads by extension. It's a miracle he hasn't shown up yet, given what happened, but I suspect Becks has kept him at arm's length."

"Thank God," John said. "Okay, if I know it's a general disapproval, then I'll deal. Harry will.. I have no idea what to do about Harry actually. I guess I should see her at some point."

"I'll drive," Seb offered. "We could just drop in on her, really round the day out." Even better on a full stomach.

"If I got her present, I could tie that in, get it over with," John said.

"Bottle of wine?" He waved a hand side to side, watching their waiter make his way back toward them with their food. Seb sat back again, watching the fellow come over to them. 

"Hah," John replied. "Yeah, no. We were going with the specialist coffee something sort of thing," He fiddled a bit with his chopsticks as their food arrived.

Seb fought his own chopsticks for a moment, holding them awkwardly but determinedly as he managed to grab a bit of duck. "Coffee, then. And a bit of something awkward."

"I expect Harry will behave if you are there. As much as a sibling will." John was putting his crispy duck in the rice pancakes and using the hoisin sauce,"

"Well, Becks isn't putting on much of a show. She's... always like that." And she'd tried to air out his dirty laundry, but he understood why. She was trying to protect him if John were going to bail. It was very protective big sister of her to do that.

"She is very good at that," John answered. "I've never had someone try to shake me down before on behalf of their brother."

"She just doesn't want this to all go wrong and have me take up residence on her sofa again." He lifted his eyebrows at John. "No, she does mean well."

"I know, I actually think that was a really nice thing to do. I'm really glad you've got someone looking out for you," John said.

He had a bit of pancake with his next bite of duck, but it was still a struggle to get chopsticks to work.  
  
"Give it not much longer. She'll look out for you as well."

"I like her a lot. I'm still not entirely sure what she does as a job, but both her and Jeremy and the kids are great," John said.

"That's the way she likes it." He twitched an eyebrow at John, and took his time chewing. "So your sister is a publishing fashion type who likes coffee."

"And addiction." John snorted. "Yeah. The high life. She is smart but she tends to get flaky."

"She always been like that?" It was hard to tell when something was actually part of a person's personality, and when something had developed there as a facet of survival.

"After our mother died yeah," John said. "She decided we all had an addictive personalities and embraced hers.”

"Then yours must be danger." He offered it... because it sounded right. "Or excitement. Which isn't that bad to be addicted to."

"Adrenalin junkie," He shook his head. "I don't know Seb, I wasn't particularly relishing danger when we were in it."

"There's excitement, and then there's danger. I liked the excitement part of it." He ate a bit more pancake, and grinned at John. "It balanced out the PowerPoint."

"I can believe that," John said stealing a dumpling. "I guess, when you do surgery under those conditions you know you are saving lives."

Seb nudged his plate closer to John's, as he ate a dumpling of his own. "You could still save lives, John."

"I could but..." John shrugged and it was a lopsided shrug favoring his recovering shoulder. "But it's difficult to let go of something you always wanted."

It was. It was hard to consider that he was going to be out of the thing he'd lived for forever, and that he was going to... to what? Fuck. "It is. But, I think we have to at this point."

"I know. But I do have you," John answered with a smile. "Which I am very grateful for."

"Yeah, you say that now. I'm sure I'll do something strange eventually that'll make you re-think that." But for the moment, what they had was... easy. It had been easy on post, and it was easy now.

"I can't think of anything that would make me do that. I'm just as likely to throw a screw loose as you are." John commented.

* * *

John started to rethink their spontaneous plan to drop in on Harry around the time they pulled up next to where she lived. He was tired and a little shaky still from their trip out but he might as well get on with it. He hadn't seen her and maybe she wouldn't even be there.  
  
In which case he could leave a note and continue generally dodging her, without feeling guilty about it. He'd tried, tick box checked. And Seb had gotten her a Christmas packaging of Starbucks coffee that had him grinning like an idiot.  
  
He'd bought a decent coffeemaker and some very expensive beans for her to roast. He didn't know why, but he felt obscurely guilty. He'd felt guilty for years at leaving home and going away to university and med school and leaving her behind.  
  
Then he'd gone off to the army, and three continents later, here he was, back at home, injured and done with that.  
  
Seb parked, nearer to her place than they'd been able to get during the shopping, and helped John get out on his side.

"I really have no idea why I'm doing this," John murmured under his breath as he awkwardly balanced the wrapped box and limped up the steps. He gave the doorbell a buzz and took a few deep breaths.

"So you can metaphorically sleep easier tonight." He stood beside John, while they waited.

"Like that is likely to happen. Hey, maybe she's not in," he said hopefully but then he could hear someone approaching the door.

"Unlikely," Seb sighed, plastering on a smile as Harry opened the door.

It was a shame it wasn't Clara, John supposed, as his sister looked ultimately surprised to see him there. "John!"

"Hello Harry," he said awkwardly. "We..I was making our first trip out so I thought I'd bring over your Christmas present."

"John, well..." Well, well, and she stared for a moment. "Well, come in, sit down. You must stay for a moment, and your... officer friend as well?"

"Thank you, ma'am." Seb's own gift was tucked under his arm

"This is Seb, Colonel Sebastian Moran," John said knowing that Harry should recognize him. Well at least she wasn't weeping hysterically down the phone at him.

She was looking stunned, but it wasn't as bad it could've been. Maybe she'd behave with Seb there. "It's good to finally meet you," he greeted, holding out the gaily wrapped basket.

She took it, looking stunned and said, "Thank you... Colonel. Come in..."

John stepped inside, trying to gauge from the surroundings what part of her addiction cycle Harry was on. It looked like she might be in what he called the ‘I’m so much better than other recovering addicts' phase.

He'd seen it before -- it was tidy in there, psychotically so, which was a better type of binge, John guessed. Maybe. He edged in, and Seb was scanning the place thoughtfully, hands stuffed into his pockets. 

"How was your trip?"

"Our...trip?" John hoped to god Harry was referring to the shopping trip. "Into London? Crowded. Far too crowded at the moment.

"Where're you staying...?"

"With me," Seb said smoothly, "at my sister's and her family. It's outside the city, quiet." And it wasn't an exact address she could do anything with. "It's good to finally meet you, John's talked about you quite a bit."

"Really?" She looked a little rabbit in headlights for a moment and John could see her teetering on the edgy of getting defensive or weepy. It could go either way. He found he couldn't stand the thought of a scene so he just smiled as if it didn't matter she hadn't been to see him.

"Yeah, coming into the city was a bit of a shock after everything," John said generously offering her an "excuse" for him not staying there.

Not that he needed an excuse. After all, staying with Seb's sister had been low stress, low energy. He didn't feel drained after interacting with any of them. Still, it would've helped to have Seb bolster his defense, rather than continue looking around half thoughtfully. "We'll, uh, why don't you sit down? I'll put coffee on…"

"Thanks," John said taking a seat. It was like visiting a stranger. "We won't stay long, I know you're probably got things on."

"Oh, I do, but I haven't seen you in ages, John. You shouldn't sequester yourself away like that. How's your..." She hesitated as she made her way into the kitchen, and John briefly wished he'd gone deaf. "How're you healing?"

He bit back a response to her, because sequestering himself away..? Jesus what was that about? "Healing up slowly," he said feeling tense and defensive. "Infections and blood loss caused complications. We spent quite a long time healing up."

"John was shot quite heroically during our escape. It made a bit of a mess of his shoulder." Seb had an oddly restrained look in his eyes, posture tense. Like they were negotiating with terrorists rather than waiting for John’s sister to make coffee.

"I'm sure he was very heroic," Harry said in a slightly patronizing tone.  
  
Or perhaps he was just over sensitive to it. He had to stop leaping to conclusions. "Yes well, we made it between the two of us."

He watched Seb's mouth tighten, and cross his legs at the ankle almost restlessly. "Eh, I don't suspect your sister is interested in our war stories."

"I'm more interested in how he is doing now," Harry said. "John knows I don't particularly support us being in Afghanistan."

It sounded so… high and mighty, self-righteous at that point in time that John couldn't help getting a dig in in return.

"Well you would know how we were if you'd visited when I was in hospital," he said pointedly. 

She came back then, with two mugs of coffee -- she quickly handed one over to John, and then there was an awkward moment of her passing the other one to Seb while moving her hand. Some of it sloshed over her hand. "You're going to have to forgive me -- losing depth perception is hell."

"I'm sure you'll adapt well," Harry said and John nearly physically winced at that. "I would have come to see you but...well frankly I was a mess John. I was trying to keep away from the press...and things with Clara have been shaky, I thought we might be getting back together and..."

She trailed off because John was too tired of the bullshit to do anything but look at her. "I see," he said in the end. What would ranting and raving accomplish? Nothing at all. He had always known where he figured in Harry's world. 

Lower than Harry herself, and her problems and challenges. There was no going back in time and fixing it, and yelling at her wouldn't get him anywhere. 

Silence stretched for a moment, while they all took sips of coffee that John had to admit was rather good. The creature comforts still felt surreal sometimes, and had been worse in the hospital. Sometimes John wasn't sure what was worse, the flashbacks to the helo being shot down, or the moments in the hospital where he thought they'd made it all that way just to die. "So, are you up to it now, or...?" Seb pressed.

"I was coming to see John at Christmas," she said defensively. "I was hoping to see him at some point over the holidays."

"Well, it's lucky we dropped in then as you are so busy," John said. Harry didn't usually wind him up quite so effectively. He was used to her thoughtlessness.

Just, not then. Seb made a noise that sounded like a swallowed laugh. "It's not that I'm crushingly busy, John, it's just that I'm not..." She hesitated. "What can I do? Clearly you're recovering. You're healthy again..." And the media spotlight had subsided some, except for awkward moments in stores.

"It's not a light switch that gets flipped, and that's the end of it. We've got a lot of work to do ahead of us. I think John'd just like support from someone who isn't *my* family."

"Of course I'll support him!" Harry said almost indignantly. "John is my brother. He knows I'm here if he needs me."

John looked at her. "Actually Harry, I can't say that I do," he said quietly. "I know it upset you, but one phone call while I'm half dead is not... being there. Turning up is being there. Emailing even. Finding out if I was sorted or needed somewhere to stay. If you really mean that, then you'll have to step it up a bit." 

"It was disconcerting to be in hospital with pretty much nothing but pt gear and your injuries." Hell, they'd just gotten notice that their gear had arrived in country, and had to be desensitized, the mil gear returned to their unit. It was going to be another week at least.

She did look worried about that. "Are you able to tell me what happened?" she asked a bit tentatively and John shrugged a little.

"You probably saw some of it," he said. "But, we were ambushed in a local village took fire. Seb was ridiculously heroic to secure the escape of his men. Unfortunately because I was treating someone...I was under direct guard. Mind you otherwise I would have been in the medievac helo they blew up. The others got away, we didn't." 

"Well, us and the poor bastards in the medivac." Seb was watching John, as he added, "So your brother manages to go out into the field carrying what works out to be about a third of the infirmary. He had bloody saline bags on him, as well as morphine and wound pack. The insurgents probably thought they'd hit gold with it, so it was shockingly easy to find John's kit after we killed the four of them on the way out."

"You...killed them? You two against them?" Harry asked leaning forward a little. John supposed it was an exciting story if you hadn't lived it. "And why on earth did you have all that with you?"

"Experience. Once you've been out a few times and found yourself groping around for a saline drip that could stabilize someone on a trip back, well that pretty much makes it habit. Every extra has a story behind it, but to be fair, the standard kits are better equipped," John said more comfortable with talking about that part of things.

"John's accustomed to coming to the rescue of the badly injured. He was a surgeon in our field hospital, but I can't tell you how important it was to have a surgeon who'd hop in a helo to a mass casualty site to provide support right there." 

It was true he did, but it gave him a sharp pang to realize he wouldn't be doing that again. 

"At least you won't have to do that again," Harry said and he shook his head . 

"I want to do it again," he said. 

"So, we're trying to come up with a way John can still do that. Or something like it. Easy would be being a GP, or doing intake in A&E." Seb took another sip of the coffee. 

"You wouldn't do that would you John?" Harry asked frowning a little.

"Possibly," John said. "I'll never make a specialist surgeon now...but I'm good at trauma and injury and it doesn't need the same level of finesse as say...a specialist neurosurgeon."

But it was still precise and he wasn't sure what he would do if it was more precise than he could ever do. What then? He wasn't sure. He'd have to get creative, and he didn't want to give up on what was his one true love as far as work went. "You have to admit that brains don't bleed enough for you, though."

John smiled a little. "Pretty much yeah," he admitted. "But that's what you do, you work up to a specialism. Or you do."

"And officers go the other way. You start out focused and slowly get more and more general." Seb took another sip of his coffee. "And then you pin on stars and your EA can carry your brain for you. Or, that was the plan."

"You were going to be a general?" Harry asked. Her attention switched slightly. "Couldn't you do that now?"

"I'm out, same as your brother." He inclined his head slightly, looking at John. 

"But couldn't they promote you? To not being in the field?" Harry asked. "I mean, you are a hero right?"

"Being a hero doesn't give you a promotion unfortunately," John said. "They don't keep the severely injured on in our forces."

"That's… ridiculous!" Harry announced.

"Yes and no. A lot of folks could conceivably stay in and do a lot of good. I'd just eternally be a target for attack -- and a barrier when dealing with former hostile leaders who we might turn to the good again. If you'd *been* an opportunistic insurgent working more for the money than the ideology, would you really trust the officer who had an eye put out by insurgents? I wouldn't." Seb shrugged his shoulders. "Nor would I trust a doctor in a medcap who'd lost some of his finer motor control due to insurgents."

"That seems so unfair and ungrateful," Harry said. "You literally given blood for the service and you're out on your ear."

"We do get a pension," John said mildly  
  
"Oh yeah and what will that get you?" 

"A flat, if we're lucky," Seb drawled. 

"You're going to live together?" Harry seemed surprised.

"Yes...You're not usually this slow on the uptake," John relied. "Seb and I are together not just as army buddies."

Seb lifted his eyebrows and waved his fingers at Harry. "Yeah, it's not really a bloody secret. John was getting a bit ribbed for it before everything went south."

"Yeah I knew that but I didn't think you were… serious about it," she said. "It’s not like you really do relationships John."

No, because he was too busy dealing with other people's shit.

"I think he does them just fine. I suspect I'm biased." Seb set his coffee cup aside, still watching Harry like a hawk.

"We were getting serious about it before everything," John said. "And maybe I was just waiting for the right person."

It didn't help that Seb gave a quiet laugh, even if there was a bit of red crossing his nose. "Or the wrong but decent enough person."

"Look at you," Harry seemed amazed. "I do believe my big brother is in love."  
Now it was his turn to blush

Because, yeah. Maybe. Maybe it was love. It was comfortable and easy, and Seb was supportive, and that seemed to hit all of the wickets. Nearly losing him... "So, subject change?"

"But I want to know about how you got together?" she asked.

"We met on post," Seb offered very honestly, looking over at John as if they needed to confirm their story. Funny, Becks had never asked any such thing.

Becks probably knew well enough to leave alone.

"He does run ...ran the place. And he is rather noticeable," John said with a faint smile. "We went out for drinks before we shipped out."

"And one thing led to another," Seb agreed. And it still did, even if their sex life had generally taken a turn for the lack of privacy they had, and pain management.

It was something he really wanted to explore when they moved in together.

"Well how interesting.." Harry practically purred.

"Not so much, no," Seb deflected smoothly.

"It wasn't that interesting," John lied through his teeth. "We had drinks we had a good time...and it was good enough to want more okay."

Harry was guessing salacious for how they met

He couldn't help but feel defensive about it, sitting there and giving Harry just what she wanted. Seb stayed silent, as if that were the true final word on the matter. 

"So… obviously interesting enough," she said raising her eyebrows. "So... how long has it been?"

"Coming up on a very strange year." Yeah. Yeah it had been, John was willing to agree. Very strange, all told, and they were nothing just then like they had been.

"An anniversary," she said and smiled a little. "I hope you can celebrate in style."

"I hope we can celebrate in our own place," John said. "If you hear of anywhere..."

"We'd appreciate it." Even if it ended up being an empty flat and a bed. It was just finding a damn place to make their own that was so frustrating.

"Well, I'll keep my ear to the ground," Harry said. "What sort of place are you looking for? In town or...?"

"In town somewhere." It might be easier to get around than it clearly was from Becks' area just outside of town.

"What sort of budget?" she said. "Guest room? Studio flat? "

John shrugged. "Nothing too outrageous."

"Bedroom with a door that closes would be nice. I haven't had to fold my bed down onto my coffee table since I was a lieutenant." Seb rubbed a hand against the side of his jaw.

That was a habit Seb did when he was a bit nervy. John nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking something a bit more upmarket than our usual billets."

"Air conditioned conex box with suspiciously poor heating? Yeah, could do."

Harry cleared her throat. "Well, I'd be more than happy to help you look, John..."

"We're taking Christmas off to … recharge," he said carefully ,"But, yeah, if you give me your current email.."

"Let me write it down." She got up, moving busily around, and Seb leaned back in the chair, closed his good eye.

John felt a little better about the whole thing, but he was starting to feel really tired and Seb was looking that way too. "We better go soon," he said. "Christmas shopping is bad at the best of times,"

"Yeah. I'm pretty bushed." Sopping and food and passing his driving test as well. It was probably the most they'd done since they'd been kidnapped.

"Oh… okay," Harry said as she brought over the scrap of paper. "Here we go. You do look wiped out."

"Yeah, it's good to be out and about, but it's also a bit much right now." He sat up, opening his eye to glance over at John.

He nodded struggling to get up, get his cane and get the stiffness out of his leg.  
"You have to go right now?" she sounded a little relieved and sad about that.  
  
"Yeah, pretty much," John said. "Besides, we usually cook for our board and lodging."

"Helps to contribute something to the chores." Seb levered himself out of the seat. "Appreciate the coffee, though."

They started ushering towards the door, and as they hovered on the threshold, John was surprised by a sudden and rather dramatic hug from his sister. 

"I'm so glad you dropped in." she said.

"It was good to see you Harry," he said getting out of the door.

And rather just that quickly, the door was shut, leaving Seb staring a bit. 

John exhaled. "All in all...a pretty good visit with my sister," he said dryly. "Jesus."

"I was going for some other swear words, but yeah. Yeah." He turned a little, putting a hand on John's back. "Let's get out of here, then."

No matter how awkward it was, John was grateful for the fact they had crossed the barrier of making contact for the first time.

* * *

Five minutes after the kids had gone to school, Jeremy had gone to work, and Becks had also left for work, John had headed slowly upstairs. After a moment, Seb had headed up as well. It didn't actually take another five minutes for them to both get naked, though Seb was mostly taking his time kissing John's neck.

It was as close to their alone time as they could get and it was strange not to be doing it and wondering about what the guys would say.  
  
John was sprawled out, still looking thin and running his hands down his back and side.

There was no worry about what the guys would say just then. "You need to eat more," he murmured against John's skin, balanced mostly on his knees over John as he relaxed.

"I'm trying," John murmured. "Healing burns it up."  
He reached up casually to brush a thumb over Seb's one remaining nipple.

The edge of his mouth twitched a little as he turned his head, kissing down to John's clavicle. The scarring started about there, from surgeries to clean and prep the rest of the area.  
  
"Can't wait to do this in our own place," John murmured. "All over it."

"We can properly inaugurate all the furniture I have in storage," Seb agreed, kissing over to the bullet wound. It was nice to have daylight and leisure to do it in, though.  
  
John shivered underneath him, "Mmm. Sounds like a plan. "

"Small steps. We can worry about work after that..." He licked kissed around the bandage John kept over the worst of it, still slow healing. 

"Mmm...I think I need to find out more about what turns you on," John said nuzzling into his hair.

"You. You're a pretty damn good start..." He didn't need a lot. He could *respond* to a hell of a lot, *did* respond to things that he didn't need all the time, but having a partner who he just found generally sexy in a relaxed way was pretty novel as well, still.

"That's always a plus," John chuckled and it made a strange rumbling sound near his ear.

He lifted his head, looking up at John with a grin. "Well, I think so. After all, you have a rakish charm..." He was halfway to doing a little tweaking of his own when he heard the doorbell.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," John groaned. "Can we ignore them?"

He dropped his hips, half sprawled on John for a moment. "Christ. No, let me get my pants and trousers on..." It could be Jeremy or Becks, because he tended to lock the bottom outside door lock as well, and it only opened from the inside.

"Crap." John groaned. "Hold that thought then...I don’t want to miss out.

"Holding." He pushed himself up, and fished for his briefs and sweatpants, hopping into them as he headed into the hallway. The doorbell rang again.  
  
He didn't want to lose the feeling. He'd set himself up mentally to luxuriate in driving John crazy and it made him irritable to be interrupted.

He could get back into the mood, but it had been relaxed and quiet, and just perfect. Now he was taking the stairs two at a time in hoping it was just a quick mistake. Someone touring around, trying to maybe pass their religion off. He wasn't sure, but looking through the peephole was a bit of a surprise.  
  
There was Richard Brook, large as life standing on their doorstep. How the hell had he found them? It wasn't common knowledge where they were staying.

Rebecca and Jeremy had managed to keep that mostly quiet, and he and John certainly hadn't said anything. Christ. He looked skinny and squirrely and *familiar*. "John? It's Richard!" He shouted it up the stairs, because yeah... Fuck. there went quiet time. Seb started to open the door while he said it.

"Well, well." Richard still had that manic look about him "Did I interrupt something Colonel?" He had that grin going on that usually preceded suggestions like 'lets go to this amazing club in Germany'.

Seb ran a hand back through his hair as he leaned a hand on the door. "Well, that's pretty obvious." He was standing there without a shirt on, that was probably a decent guess. "Why don't you come in? How'd you get here?"

"Hopped." Richard said dryly. He gestured. "I had a car bring me. You weren't that hard to find."

"I suppose not, if you were looking." And there was no car to be seen just then. He held the door open, letting Richard come in and bring the cold with him. "How've you been?"

"Getting on," he said. "I got bored so I stopped feeling sorry for myself and got off my fucking ass."

"Excellent news, then." He waited until Richard's back was turned to him, and then reached down to adjust his slowly fading erection from where he'd shoved it sort of painfully. "You working?"

"Running a fucking business mate," Richard said with that slightly manic grin of his as he wandered in. "Sisters place huh?"

"Mmhm. Do you want a cuppa? Seeing as you're here." Then he could at least herd him out of the main room.

"Well looks like they taught manners in officers land huh?" Richard was glancing around.  
  
John made a slightly hurried appearance at the door. 

It was a relief to see that he was carrying Seb's t-shirt for him. He'd left his eye patch up on the bathroom counter -- no sense in it when John didn't seem to care -- but now going back up to get it would be... a hassle. "Manners and swearing. You remember Doctor Watson."

"I do indeed, how could I forget?" Richard looked him over speculatively. It was practically lascivious.

"Er, Hello." John said. "It's good to see you Richard."

Richard was still smiling as Seb took a backwards step into the kitchen. "I'll be out with tea in a moment..."  
"I'll just have a little chat with John then," Richard said patting John's arm in a way that obviously surprised him.

It felt... just a little awkward, like Richard was trying too hard? Sebastian wasn't sure, couldn't put a finger on it as he put the kettle on, and shrugged into the t-shirt John had brought down.  
  
Making the tea was easy enough, and John was looking a little wild around the eyes when Seb came back in.

"A domesticated Colonel. I've always wanted one," Richard drawled just a little. "You didn't have to cover up for me you know. The bare chested look is very in at the moment."

He handed John a cup first, then Richard, and set the tray on the coffee table. "I wasn't particularly expecting company just then."

"A shame," Richard said taking the drink. 

John cleared his throat. "How are you Richard?"

"Well I'm going by the name Jim now. It's a reinvention of myself," he said smirking a little. "Nothing like a shift in identity to make you feel like a new person."

"You have to admit that's a bit odd." Seb sat down beside John on the sofa, careful with his own glass.

"Of course it is," Richard...no, Jim said. "But Richard Brook was a pity case. Whereas Jim is a successful entrepreneur."

"That just seems an extreme move," John put in cautiously.

"I'm an extreme kind of guy...or didn’t you get that from Germany?"

"I had an inkling." But that was a bit much, even Seb agreed. "What business are you in?"

"Defense Consultancy," he replied. "Among other things. I've made a lot of contacts over the years. Basically it does the same sort of things we did before and more...but for better pay."

"Congratulations. I'm glad you didn't go with the angry pottery idea, then." He added a little sugar to his tea, and took a sip.

"Well, there is a limited market for angry pottery, but an unlimited market for war," R-Jim said. "So, here's an idea. There are job offers for the two of you."

"Job offers." Seb laughed, looking over at John, and trying to not feel... quite how strange that was. "That wasn't what I expected to hear."

"Me neither," John replied looking confused. "How have you managed to create a business to the point it needs extra staff so quickly?"

"Talent. Charisma. Amazing intelligence," Jim replied smirking and everything just felt a bit... off.

"Do you have any extra staff? I know how long it takes to let a contract..." And if he was looking to fill his first few contracts, well, that made sense. It wouldn't be a bad idea, either, as all the money would come in up front chunks.

"I have staff, I have contracts," he said airily. "I need people to fulfill them. Well, more than just bodies on the ground level."

"Why us?" He tilted his head curiously, still glancing over at John, as well as keeping his eyes on Richar... Jim. Would it be the free publicity?

Jim seemed unable to keep completely still. "Cynic. Because I *know* you two." He gestured widely with his hands. "Because you're fucking better than any of the other bastards I've interviewed. Because I've been in your position and getting a job back... well."

Yeah. Well. He rubbed fingers at the back of his neck, and glanced over at John a little more intensely. "What're the contracts for, then? It's, I can't say we're up to full snuff yet. Or close."

"Eh, wasn't expecting to get anyone employed for over a month anyway," Jim shrugged. "Pesky giving notice rules."

"A month...but..." John sounded worried.

"I'm mostly interested in what roles you're looking to have filled, and where?" It wasn't the time to say, perhaps, that he wasn't sure if he was capable of going back downrange again, if he wasn't sure John was capable of going back downrange again.

"Training, kicking the ass of people who need to be prepared for downrange. Protecting contractors...that sort of thing. Most of them could get shot off of a plane," Jim said staring at him. "You'd scare the shit out of them… which is a good thing. Same with medical staff."

"Okay, uh. Jesus. This isn't anything we expected." He took a sip of the tea just to steady himself. "John...?"

"I..I'm not sure," John was hesitant. "I mean it sounds interesting..."

"Sort of not the headspace we were working in today." He rubbed at the back of his neck again as he watched Jim's mercurial expression. "But, it sounds interesting."

"Here," Jim pulled out two document wallets. "Take a look, read them over, and give me a call at some point."

"This is a step up from opining that you wanted to be a pirate," Seb drawled, leaning forward to take the two folders Jim had pulled from the inside of his coat. "Staying for a bit, or...?"

"Inviting me up to join in what ever I interrupted?" Jim said with that barefaced gall he had.

And it was plausible, because he and Richard had... Occasionally done things, walked on the riskier side of life. But that had been a while ago. "No, no really."

"Sounds like I'll have to lure you back to Germany eh?" Jim said with a leer that Seb actually found disturbing. Especially when he was looking at John like that.

"Uh, yeah thanks for the offer," John said. "...the job offer."

Brilliant save. "I'll go put tea on, uh, John, if you want to start reading..." He stood up, just to put distance between them, and worked to keep Jim on his seeing side.

"Right." John looked a little uncomfortable and Richard...no Jim, and he wasn't going to get used to that in a hurry - sort of roamed towards him.

"You could get yourself a nice flat in the city if you took this," he said still smiling. It was more shark like than he remembered.  
  
"We're still deciding what to do." It was a coping technique, maybe, going vicious and sharp and lashing out at people. Sebastian wasn't sure, but he moved to the kitchen and turned the kettle on, keeping an ear out.

"You know you'll miss the action," Jim said. "And you John, running headlong into danger more often than the soldiers themselves..."

"That was my job." John said shortly by way of a reply. "There is a lot of expectation to be abroad in this proposal. Longer even than some of the tours of duty we pull."

"Told you I had the work," Jim answered.

"We're still physically recovering," he called out, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb. "It's going to take a while."

"You'll be bored in a few weeks," Jim persisted. "Hair of the dog and all that...it's the best therapy."

"I’m missing an eye. It is just a little detrimental to my marksmanship." He tried to not growl it, and why wasn't no good enough?

"You know there are marksmen out there with one eye," Jim answered dismissing that as trivial. "Even with one eye, you're probably a lot better than the others."

Sebastian grimaced as the kettle whistled, but looked to John, feeling at a loss. "I nearly died. You, Richard, Jim, whatever you're going by now, you nearly died. And congrats on reinventing yourself, but I'm still working out how to deal with what happened."

"I can't wait forever you know," Jim said in his irritating Irish drawl. 

"Then don't wait at all," John said with an unexpected flare of stubbornness. "If you can't wait for us to get our shit together, then I'm not sure you are going to have our best interests in mind as an employer."

"Oh ho, don't like being pushed do we John? Funny that...” Jim was practically leering again.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about Jim."

"I appreciate the offer," he said firmly, grabbing the kettle and three mugs, deftly. "But we're just not well enough right now, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to go back to the ao so soon."

Jim shrugged. "Yeah well I've had my fill of staring at walls or waiting for my leg to grow back," he said. "I'm not hanging around waiting for opportunity to slip me by."

"It's not hanging around. It's making sure I have my full bloody mental capacity after the infection, and that John makes it through pt for his shoulder without killing anyone. It's not waiting for shit to un-happen, its patience and waiting for build a stable foundation for the next step."  
"Read the offer, think about it. I'm the best offer you're going to get," Jim replied. "You wait until you get out there, then you'll understand."

Seb set the mugs down, glancing at John. "We will, we'll think about it. I'm damn glad you're such a bleeding success."

Having a cup of tea seemed to settle Jim down a little. At least he became a little less aggressive in the job offer sell, and John calmed as he had his sip of Earl Grey. It probably wasn't sensible to work for a friend. It was a sure fire way to not become friends. Jim started in on some slightly unbelievable story about freaking some guys out in an Irish pub with his prosthetic foot which just seemed a bit...off in some way.  
  
It was hard to place, and Sebastian still had a commander's urge to shepherd and care for his troops.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to fix Jim, or throttle him. He was more dangerous to him than he'd ever sensed before, even with their past of hooking up. This was a new danger for him to contemplate, watching John as he talked to and interacted with Jim.  
  
John looked wary of Jim where he hadn't been of Richard. And how screwed up was that? Reinventing yourself he understood but taking a new name. He didn't even know if he was still Brook  
It seemed as good a time as ever, so he leaned a little, watching Richard carefully. "Sorry, did you change your last name as well as the first one?"  


"Well, I'm thinking about it," Brook said. "Jim Brook is a bit ordinary isn't it?"

"Ordinary might be what you're going for," Sebastian shrugged.

"My mothers maiden name was Moriarty. That has a bit of class doesn't it? Unlike my mother," Jim answered. "James Moriarty, has my Irish roots in it but sounds classy enough."

The entire conversation was surreal, and he kept looking to John for cues or clues that he might be missing something important.

"Sounds a little old money, if that's what you're going for."

"That's who usually does the hiring," Jim said with a smirk. "Well, Deed Poll, here I come. That's me sorted out."

"Still seems a bit weird," John said. 

"Tiny bit," Sebastian agreed, making a pinching gesture between two fingers. "It’s not like either of us changing our names would help us with the pictures out there."

"You have a profile in the media. I didn't get that coverage," Jim answered. "I'm just another anonymous veteran come back incomplete. No one gives a shit about me, but the two heroic martyrs? You could live off of it for years!"

"How? Who'd even want to?" Sebastian leaned back, and glanced at John. "Successful trauma surgeon in battle. All on his own, separate of any hostage situation with years of schooling and years more of practice. I know he'd like to get back into it."

"Surgery at least," John said. "But places like surgeons to be perfect."

"Well, take a look at the paperwork and you might see that golden ticket," Jim said.

"We will," Seb reassured. "At least we know this offer is legit."

"Otherwise John will be writing his memoirs," Jim said. He put his tea down, barely touched as his phone vibrated in his pocket and he checked. "I don't know how I lived without a decent mobile.. sorry, I've got another contract dangling here. I better get back to work."

"Thanks for coming by." He supposed. It was a relief that he was leaving, though he didn't think he and John would be picking up where they left off.

John politely saw Jim out the front door. "Thanks for dropping by," he said "And for the offer."

"Just call me if you want to know more," Jim said as he left and John closed the door.

"Holy fucking cow…" he muttered under his breath.

He waited until he'd heard him wander down the walkway, away. "What the bloody fuck was that?"

"I...I really don't know what to say to that," John said looking almost shaken. "Are we that screwed up?"

"To what?" He wasn't sure where John got that THEY were the fucked up ones from that conversation. It certainly wasn't what he got from the same span of time.

"I mean, are we like Jim but think we're okay?" John said. "Everything seemed just.. like someone was trying too hard to be not batshit crazy."

"And failing," Sebastian pointed out possibly a little more firmly than he needed to. "And I'm going to read those offers and then burn them. Not going to work for that. Never. No, my sister would say something if we were doing that poorly."

"Kinda a relief." John exhaled. "I can't… I mean, why does he make me want to get the hell away from him when before he was fine?"

"Because you sense something is deeply wrong and that he's making no effort to address it." It was like someone with an oozing wound that smelled.

"I feel almost like I need another shower," John shuddered. He seemed to pause and think a moment. "How did he know we were here?"

"Stalking," Sebastian offered casually enough, reaching a hand out to touch John's shoulder. "I bet he holed up somewhere waiting for everyone to leave as well."

"Well that's not creepy at all," John replied sarcastically. "Bloody hell."

"Yeah." Sebastian grimaced, "yeah, so he's stalking us."

He wasn't sure what was worse, being stalked in the first place or getting a job offer from someone who was stalking them.

"So how well did you know him before?" John asked. "I mean was he stable before?"

"He was a stable as any of us were." Sebastian always had the feeling something seemed off, but it was the best he could manage. "He had a tendency to punch above his weight class. And the pushiness is nothing new."

"Okay, but the weird flirting in that way that feels..uh.." John waved his hand a little.

"No, that's new. He was like in Germany is what he was always like." Faced with this new Richard – Jim whatever the hell he was called, it was hard to see how he'd ever gotten along with the man at all.

"I'm not sure I want to work for him," John said almost hesitantly." I don't think it will be professional."

It was hard to not stare at John a bit. "How did I never take you for so over polite? He's gone round the bloody bend."

"I've barely met the guy although when I did it was Germany," John said. "I might be misjudging him."

"There's no way in hell we're going to work for him," Sebastian reaffirmed.

John looked relieved. "He was looking you up and down like a side of meat. It...bothered me."

"It bothered me. It... I'm more concerned that he's bloody stalking us," Sebastian muttered. "Fucking sick fuck."

John grimaced. "Is he that unstable? That you know of?" he asked "Because if so we need to move out of here. I wouldn't want him around your family."

"Yeah." Sebastian wasn't any more sure of what was going on than John was, but the other man was looking to him for answers and he was going to try. "We need to find our own place, then."  
"Even if it is a bit of a shithole. There was that empty flat in Baker Street across the road from that cafe." John said. "We turned it down because it was unfurnished and we'd need to do the place up but…we could sleep on just a mattress or something."

"Yeah." Sebastian felt his mind reaching for solutions, costs, when they could support themselves, plans and plans, and mostly coming up with a gut sense more than anything sharp and firm. "Okay."

"You are okay us moving in together?" John asked a bit hesitantly. "I mean, the rent in London is pretty steep, and I'm not likely to be able to do more than locum work."

"Not until you get comfortable and heal more. Yeah I think... I think we won't kill each other." He laughed and leaned forward, reaching for his previously abandoned teacup.

"You sure about that?" He smiled at him. "I can be an annoying git. I have my eclectic taste in jumpers."

"That's what happens when you make a soldier suddenly have to dress himself." He turned his head, carefully looking at John. They had not really had a break; the first quiet time they were faced with and Richard had showed up.

"Much better at being undressed," John said with a grin. "Another reason to get our own place. Feeling a bit inhibited here."

Sebastian gave a smile that he hoped was charming or wolfish or either. "Same. Glad my sisters given us space to get our feet under ourselves, but..."

John shrugged a little. "Has that mood completely gone or...?" he asked sipping his tea a moment,  
"Pretty sure the kindling is still good and warm." He set his own tea-cup down, and leaned in closer to John, hand careful as he lowered John's cup for him.

"Well okay then," John said smirking. "It's not like I've got anything else in my busy social calendar. Shall we uh..."  
"Yes." Tea-cup taken care of, he pressed his mouth against John's, and started to push him back against the sofa. They'd just have to make sure they vacated it before the family got home.

* * *

Apparently Baker Street was not as desirable as other areas in London, or something had brought down the prices because John felt they had a good deal on their flat, 32 Baker street. Admittedly, it was in need of decoration, but he and Seb had little else to do in the short term, and Seb had said no initially because of the stairs but John felt the discipline of using them would help his leg. Moving in day however was a bit fraught as not only was Becks and the kids helping, but Harry decided to turn up as well in full passive aggressive flow to add to an already stressful day.

And it wasn't as if they had a ton of stuff to move, but he'd acquired bits and things and footlockers, really, over the years, and Seb had more medals and honors and uniforms than John had really processed a man could have, stacked neat and tidy in boxes, nothing at all like a love-me wall. So there was enough to be a pain in the arse, and not enough to quite justify that many people.

Becks and entourage had at least had the sense to , as she said "go and get some groceries in" so they had ducked out to find the nearest supermarket. Unfortunately, Harry was not being anywhere near as useful.  
"This is ridiculous. You haven't even got a proper bed."

"Mattress is decent for the moment, and we'll get something from a flat pack store later." It wasn't as if they weren't accustomed to worse, much worse than a clean floor and a low-spot to sleep on. 

"Harry, we're fine," John said wearily. "I've slept on worse."

"You are still recovering, and look at you, you can barely make it up the stairs!" Harry said making a drama out of a crisis.  
Or a mountain out of a grain of sand. Sebastian's reactions to Harry were flat and calm and reasoned, as if she were a hostile leader. He was very carefully unpacking things into the closets, watching John. "He's doing *very* well, Harry."

"I'm his sister, I know what he's like better than you do," Harry retorted. "And he is not fine." 

"I really don't think you should be playing that card Harry," John said.

"I know what John wants me to know," Sebastian shrugged, "And I'm not disconcerted or swayed by your statement. If he says he's all right with a mattress, I'm taking him at his word. You should try it."

"Oh he says he's fine but he's really not," Harry contradicted.

"I really am," John answered trying hard not to roll his eyes. "Seriously Harry, I am not pretending to be something I'm not"

"I'm inclined to believe him," Seb added. He was positioning himself suspiciously, as if to give John a buffer between him and Harry.

He appreciated the effort but he had been dealing with Harry all his life. 

"Yeah, well you're not exactly Mr. Stability yourself are you?" Harry said folding her arms.

"Harry." John said in a low intense tone. "You are over the line."

"Well someone has to say it as you two are doing impressions of ostriches here," she said petulantly.

"If you had bothered to come and see us in the time we had come back to England, then I might accept your opinion, but right now you are full of shit." John replied feeling anger stirring.

Sebastian seemed to settle into a cold heat, holding very still. "You don't know me. You don't know shit about me. You have hardly met me, and you say things like that? You don't seem to your own bloody brother. Maybe you should take it down a fucking notch."

"That's the point isn't it?" Harry said. "I don't know you. You could be an axe murderer for all I know!"

"Harry, shut up." John said, getting very angry himself. "I think it's time you take this melodrama of yours home with you."

"I have got your best interests in mind," Harry sniffed. "As you have a habit putting yourself in danger."

John really wanted to tell her to shut the fuck up, and what did it say when going to a warzone was a relief compared to going home.

"My choice. And Seb saved my life out there and protected me. He was the battalion commander."

"Nothing dodgy about that at all then," she sniped.

"Oh, for fucks sake. Medical officers never answer to us, and how the bloody hell did we get here from you not liking the idea of a mattress as a bed?" Sebastian

"Because it's just asking for trouble. John, you could come and stay with me," Harry said. 

"Well, that offer might have been useful when we got back, but thank you for not making it," John answered feeling his blood pressure escalating. "Thank you for your help Harry, I think I'd prefer it if you left before you get punched."

"The type of man who resorts to violence is not good for you" Harry said sanctimoniously.

"Yeah, I was talking about me," John said tersely. "Out. Now."

"I'll get the door," Sebastian offered, tone calmer as he moved to hold the door open for John to escort her out.

"Fine. Far be it for me to outstay my welcome," Harry said even as John physically 'guided' her to the door. "You've got my number for when you need it," she said darkly even as John took delight in pushing the door shut behind her.  
He held up his hand to forestall any comment from Seb before leaning forward and shouting through the keyhole.  
"And stop eavesdropping!"

There was a yelp and he listened until he was satisfied she had gone. "Sorry about that."

"Still trying to work out where she gets that I’m unstable somehow." If it wasn't for those moments and intimacy with Sebastian John was pretty sure he never would've made that wild leap. He wondered back towards John, and looped an arm around his shoulder.

"Somewhere between two and four." Which was really a priority given their lifestyle, much more so than an elevated bed. Which was on their to-do list. "Here, lean on me."

"I think its spasmed," John said cursing the stupidity of the pain. It was practically the only place on his body without scar tissue and it hurt. He clutched hold of Seb. "Becks will be back soon with the tea right?"

"She will, yeah. Here, uh..." He was going to be a poor version of a chair, but he could back John through the doorway to the bedroom. At least the flat was one good broad level, and once John made it inside there weren't stairs and stairs to account for.

He was pretty sure the fact it got worse with proximity to Harry said a lot about it. "I apologize for Harry. Don't take it personally, she's like that with pretty much everyone," John said.

"Can't grouse about her too much. Wait until you meet my father." Sebastian smiled, an overly toothy expression, and added, "The old bastard makes Mommy dearest look like a day in the park."

"We'll put the two of them in a room and see who makes it out alive?" John answered. "Harry is just relishing the drama. And she's never forgiven me for going away to become a doctor. And even further away in being a soldier."

"What were you supposed to do?" Sebastian posed it as an actual question that he wanted an answer to, rather than a lofty hypothetical, as they made it through the bedroom doorway.

"Stay at home and stop the gradual self-destruction of my mother, and then her," John said. "Becoming a doctor was the first really selfish thing I did."

"Glad you decided to finally be selfish, then," Sebastian offered, easing him down to sit down on the mattress, and bugger, that was low. "Yeah, I know what I'm doing this weekend. Nice high one, right?"

"Damn right. With all the trimmings. King sized if we're both going to be in it," John grumbled, going down with a grunt. "And I intend to christen it. We have our own place.”

"We have our own place," Sebastian agreed, grinning a little as he stiffly settled down beside John. "Christ I feel old right now. Hi."

John tugged at him, pulling him towards him. "You know, I'm looking forward to not being interrupted later. No pressure, just you me, some shitty wine from somewhere and a takeaway and the prospect of DIY in the morning."

"Do you prefer a shitty red wine, or a shitty white?" He liked the heat of Sebastian's arms, the way he curled against him in a relaxed manner. "I can recommend a shitty Malbec, which is good because I doubt the fridge will have cooled anything by the time we get to it."

"I'll go with your recommendation," John answered relaxing a little. "At least we have a fridge."

"This is true. I recommend a shitty red wine, which pairs quite well with everything from burgers to chip butties, but if we're going for crisps, I'd suggest a light shitty white wine." He squeezed his arm around John's waist.

"Eh, Somehow I think your sister will insist crisps do not make meals " John replied. "Maybe we could cheat and get something from the cafe over the road."

"That's a good call. Do you want to come with?" They had just sat down and his leg was twinging him, but.

"Yeah, Becks won't be back for a bit will she?" John said resolving to test his leg on the stairs.

"Define 'a bit'. Another hour at least." He wasn't moving yet, just waiting.

"Maybe we can pop over and grab something to bring back," John said decisively. He made a spirited attempt to push himself up.

"Enough for all of them," Sebastian agreed, helping slowly. His knee popped, and that was a loud sound to John, even if Sebastian laughed.

"Bloody hell, what have you been doing to that knee?" John asked half laughing too. "I thought I was a wreck." He put a hand out to try and get some leverage.

"Years of bad shit. Years." Sebastian groaned as they got upright, slightly unsteady. "Your sister threw a hell of a fit over something we were planning to fix anyway."

"My sister would throw a fit over a tissue left on the floor if it suited her," John said standing upright. "Harry is a die-hard egocentric."

"Can I have her number? I want to bait her over here in case my father ever shows up," Sebastian drawled. They headed slowly to the hallway, stretching and getting comfortable from having to get upright that fast.

"Eh, she'll fall in love soon with someone and we'll cease to exist," John predicted. "Or out of love. Seems to work both ways." He looked at the stairs. "This might take a while."

"I'll go down backwards and you can hold my hands," Sebastian teased.

"Bugger that," John replied fumbling for his cane. "This is my martial arts cane. With it I can kick the ass of anyone or anything. Including stairs."

"I believe you when you say that. I am still doing down in front of you in case you need someone to fall on top of."

"The press are right, you are a hero," John answered as they started down the stairs. He had a wallet, and he was interested in poking around the place.

Getting out to see their environment, getting out to see what kind of neighborhood they'd put themselves in. It seemed nice, for the price... Which did make John wonder.

"Never altruistic," Sebastian countered.

"I'll pay you in kind later,” John replied. It was a slow and careful trip downstairs and he was conscious of slowing Seb up. "Don't want to slow you up."

"Where am I going without you?" he asked, idling a couple of steps lower than John.

“Somewhere a lot faster," John replied. "Anyway, we need to work out our DIY plan as well."

"Which is cover everything in rugs?" Sebastian smirked, waiting at the bottom landing.

"That would be a nightmare," John said. "We need a color scheme."

"Tigerskin on the ceiling? “ Sebastian fake squinted with his good eye, grinning at John. "Bugger, I'm bad with color."

"I'm not brilliant but I know colors," John answered. "I thought we could decide on colors and then hit Ikea or something."

"So, hardware store or computer color deciding?" Sebastian waited until John joined him at the bottom, and popped the door open. "There's a joke I feel I could make about being a shite gay guy, but Becks would probably deny it all for me."

"Google will have an answer," John replied, sorting through places he had been and admired in his own head. 

"Cooker will work once the gas is on, so we're microwave only until Tuesday when they turn it on." It wasn't that much of a hardship.

"We'll get take out then later," John decided. Least they could do was to offer. The curly haired pale man, was still staring at him.

Sebastian followed John's gaze, and lifted an eyebrow at the guy. "You want a pot of tea and I'm thinking coffee." They were next in line, and Sebastian was clearly warring between starting something and getting the opportunity to pay and order.

John glanced around. "You mind staying?" he asked. The only spare table was near the staring guy.

"I'm going to kick his chair out from under him, but yeah, we should get a feel for the neighborhood," Sebastian murmured, fishing into his pocket for his wallet.

"I'll get the table then before it goes." John said and tried to look casual as he went over and sat down. He didn't liked being stared at, especially with his collection of scars which he felt people could somehow see underneath his clothing.

And not that most people could actually see under his clothes, unless someone suddenly set him on fire, but he didn't expect that to happen. Not really. The man with the sharp eyes was still watching him, flicking over to Sebastian, and then back to him, dark look heavy.

He tried a faint non-committal bland smile, the sort he used to use when he was out doing clinics in potentially hostile territory. He wanted to show the man he knew he was looking at him but that was it.

The man leaned forward slowly, catching and holding his gaze. "You and your partner haven't had sex in three days, but despite this you're both exceedingly chipper. You just had a fight with your sister, and you're wondering how you can afford the rent on your flat." 

John stopped, blinking for a moment, feeling like someone had just plucked information about him out of his head. "What… how did you...how did you know that?"

"The signs are all there." He made a vague hand gesture at John, as it encompassed all of him. "If you pay attention. You've moved in directly across from me."

"You live on Baker Street then," John frowned slightly. Jim wouldn't have hired someone over the road not when he didn't know him. "Sorry I thought you were rec... doesn't matter. 

"Suck mark on the side of your neck, Given the usual healing rate for those injuries, I'd say three days, but there are older, fainter marks, which tells me it's habitual, which means sir Carton de Wiart over there likes to leave marks when you're intimate. From the state of your clothes, you're not particularly well heeled, and this is an up-scale feeling neighborhood, but there are also property owners who try to keep their income below a taxable level."

John stared a bit more. The man made it sound so simple and logical. "That's bloody amazing," he said unable to help himself despite the inherent intrusion. "Do you do that all the time?"

"Of course. It's basic observation." His eyes flicked to the side, watching us Sebastian approach the table. His posture was stiff, as he put his wallet back into his pocket, as if he were at the ready for an attack.

"Have you basically observed my name?" John asked going for relaxed "Or should I introduce us?"

"No, but he's a familiar face."

Sebastian tilted his head, and sat down across from John. "We might be. You are...?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson," John said. He wasn't sure if he was military or doctor any more. The name wasn't familiar to him, but he saw Seb frown a little.

"And I'm Col. Moran. Holmes. You have a brother, don't you?" It was a heavy hesitation Sebastian's voice when he said it, The same sort of testing way he asked a question when he wasn't sure if he was experiencing effects from a concussion or not.

"Oh I should have known. One of Mycroft's hired muscles," Sherlock Holmes said derisively. 

"So you know each other?" John queried. Seb had never said anything.

"I know his brother. I'm not hired muscle, I'm a planner." With a tendency to act like hired muscle, and the love of sniping... John didn't say anything about that.

"You're a sharpshooter. So when are you going to learn to shoot with your non-dominant eye?"

"When he's ready," John said. The man was all sharp edges, glittering and compelling while trampling over the bounds of polite decency. "Who's the brother then?"

"Mycroft." They both answered it at once, and Sebastian sat back, and looked over his shoulder towards where tea and hopefully some other snack would be coming from. 

"Are you here to spy on me, then?"

"No," John said perplexed. "Why would we be spying on you?" It was more likely to be the other way around as far as John could see.

Then again, maybe they could be partners in paranoia. "One of my brother's associates shows up below my flat, and I'm *not* supposed to be suspicious?"

"No one in the military has a choice on whether they work for Mycroft or not. It just happens as and when needed." Sebastian drawled, looking for the tea again hopefully. "How's the heroin problem?"

Sherlock waved a hand as if to say it came and went. "Life is so boring isn't it?" he said.

"If you want interesting times there's plenty of places in the world to get your kicks," John said. Heroin addict? He had the physique but not tell tales at this point.

It made him wonder how Sebastian knew, and if Sherlock was actually right. "Not when you're as intelligent as I am. Everything is dull, dull, dull." Unless one stumbled into such a strange, piercing conversation at the coffee shop.

"What do you do with yourself all day then?" John said raising his eyebrows. Arrogant too apparently. He belatedly helped himself to his tea, glancing at Seb as he did so, trying to read him.

It was hard to read Seb in public -- he went stiff, pulled in on himself, except for the presence of his calf against John's underneath the table. The man's legs were ridiculous. He took a sip of his tea. "Immerse myself in learning the ins and the outs of the criminal empires of London, the better to solve things."

"So you're a detective?" John asked amused, his hand slipping under the table to rub Seb’s thigh absently. Seb always relaxed with physical contact.

"A private detective." With a heroin addiction, apparently, because the man hadn't protested. Who was apparently living across the street. "And you're..." He was looking at John again, squinting and apparently trying to pull something together.

John smiled a little. "Guess. You know you want too." He could practically feel the restlessness crackling of of the man in a way that reminded him of the warzone."  
He was studying John's face, his hands. It wasn't as "easy" a guess as Sebastian had been, though that was also something of a miracle pulled from the air. "No callouses at all, care taken with your hands, tanned to the wrists, so soldier as well, surgeon, perhaps?"

John gave a huff of a laugh and was required by a brilliant smirk from Sherlock which completely changed him to looking animated and alive. "You got it," he acknowledged. "That is amazing."

"It's bloody annoying," Sebastian murmured, "only two of you in the world, huh?" 

"I guess you work with the police?" John said smirking at Seb a little. A mildly jealous Seb could be very fun for him when they got home. Seb got possessive and protective.

"Occasionally." He lifted his own cup, of what smelled like tea from a distance, but looked dark as coffee. "Anyone who pays me. A lot of rubbish with cheating husbands and wives, and 'missing' items of insurance fraud."

"Sounds interesting," John said, and it really did. More interesting than the prospect of working for Jim, and for locum work at a GP surgery.

"It is. If you have a stomach for that kind of adventure." He seemed to be asking without saying it if John had that kind of stomach.

"Well being a surgeon in a warzone tends to toughen the stomach a little," John answered, still stroking Seb's leg. He wasn't going to get much in the way of work until he completed a course of therapy, or got signed off as pschologically stable.

"Nothing like helping some grunt keep their guts in their stomach to do that," Sebastian agreed. It was the other end of what Sebastian did, or liked to think he did.

"Between the two of us we'll probably get the flat up together rapidly and I've got ...uh, some time before I can take even locum work," John said, not even sure why he was doing anything.

Seb took a deep drink of his tea, and though the sound he made was vaguely put upon, the expression on his face was amused. "John. You've just been Holmes'd."

"I've been... what?" he turned and looked at Seb and then at Sherlock who had a definite smirk on his face.

"Holmes'd. We're never getting rid of him now," Sebastian said with a vague gesture at Sherlock, whose smug look grew. 

"You're thinking of my brother. Man never takes his claws out of someone, always keeps them dangling... until needed."

"I haven't said I'll do anything, I just thought it sounded interesting," John protested.

"You will." Sherlock leaned back in his seat, and imperiously took a sip of his tea. "Oh, you will."

"After painting the flat," he said definitely. He wanted a home base, Seb wanted a home base as well.  
They needed something to call theirs, something stable. He needed stability, and Seb clearly needed a home base, so... so. There they were. Planning on it. "And buying a bed," Seb agreed.

"I suppose Mycroft will hold off on pulling your strings that long," Sherlock hummed.

"I don't particularly want my strings pulled," he said. The tea was pretty good. 

"His, not yours. Not yet." Sherlock looked delighted in himself, but it was an oddly warming delight. "Colonel Moran will catch you up on that in private."

"I appear to be the only one not knowing what you are talking about," John said finishing his tea. "We ought to get back, your sister will be back soon.

"Right." Sebastian took a deep swig, and gave Sherlock a bit of side-eye. Carefully. "Enjoy your people watching."

"Oh I will," Sherlock said even as John got up as well.

"Good to meet you Sherlock," he said getting a definitely look of surprise.

"You as well." It was a startled sounding response, and Sebastian snorted as they ambled to the door.

"Unbelievable."

"Okay, what's going on here?" John said. He wasn't stupid and it seemed a hell of a coincidence.

"Mmm, we'll talk when we're inside." Sebastian cleared his throat a little, gesturing up the road.

"Okay," John commented as they headed back, wondering all the time what the hell he had gotten himself into this time.

* * *

It wasn’t as if Sebastian was worried about telling John; rather, he'd hoped it would be an unremarked upon thing for many many weeks and he could find a way to work up to it rather than having to discuss it right off. He waited until the door was closed, and John was fiddling with his cane before offering an explanation. "This flat remains empty, abandoned, due to its proximity across the street and with a good clear view of the home of the younger brother of a particular government official I know."

John looked at him for a long moment. "So you did do a deal."

"I did a deal," Seb half agreed, half confessed. "With Mycroft Holmes."

"What deal?" John sat down as soon as they got in, kneading at his leg. "How did you get the good deal?"

Sebastian lingered, circling around John, and scanning the apartment carefully. "I reached out to him on a lark. Something Richard said inspired it, and I.... might've just been being paranoid. Probably am. olmes asked if we were looking for a flat, and if I'd be willing to just keep an eye on his brother, and report back occasionally. If anything interesting happened."

"So we are here to spy on him?" John said. "I feel like I lied to him." Interestingly he didn't seem to be showing any sign of rejecting the flat or him. John was more pragmatic about something than he thought.

"No, you're not lying to him, and he caught me out right off," Sebastian shrugged. "He's probably been sitting there watching us move in with a pair of binos."

"So what's the big deal about them. I thought this place had some weird problem for us to get it at the price we did," John asked looking thoughtful. "Why hasn't someone else snapped up the deal?"

"Trusted agent with an active security clearance," Sebastian shrugged. "I'm down an eye, but my loyalty to the country isn't in question. And... the Holmes are sort of special people to deal with, Case in point down there."

"What he could tell just from looking was amazing," John said. "It really was." He exhaled. "I don't know how much of that was spontaneous and how much set up."

"Spontaneous. I'd heard second hand report of him," Sebastian shrugged, finally lingering beside John, not quite sure what he'd done wrong or what to do next. "So you aren't angry with me."

"Well, I would have preferred to be a bit more aware, but I guess if Sherlock is as good as he appears, he would have realized that," John answered. "I guess I won't know the half of what you did before, just like you don't know all about me." He smiled a little. "I mainly started talking to him because you're fun when you get a bit possessive."

He chuckled a little, and knelt down, because there was a point where looming was not what he wanted to do. "Annoyingly handsome on top of just being annoying. I've done... a lot of things that could be classified as bad, depending on your point of view. I left SAS because I wanted a little career progression past major." And he'd gotten it, and having men to take care of was... having command had been important. Even if he'd fucked it up royally.

"You know I want to hear about what you feel you can tell me right?" John said. "When you feel ready." He leaned against him and nudged him. "I might actually see what this Sherlock gets up to when we've done the DIY bonanza."

"Oh, he's metaphorically followed us home," Sebastian murmured, leaning an arm on John's good leg, and relaxing a little. "He *likes* you. Now all I can think of is Mycroft being pleased and petting some bloody huge white Persian cat like Blofeld."

"God, I really hope he's not as Bond villain as you describe," John answered even as they hear noise coming up the stairs. "Sounds like Becks is here."

Sebastian eased back up, moving slowly. It was a shift, but sister meant sister and kids and the brother in law, so he acted a bit more game when he could around them. "He's not a bond villain, just... I'm extremely glad he's British."  
"After they've let us in peace, I am fully expecting more details, and to benefit from trying to stir you up earlier," John said. "Just so you know."

"I'm looking forward to it." There was no predicting John's appetite for the unexpected, and it was a relief every time it came up.

The arrival of Becks and the kids was at once distracting and welcoming. Somehow with a full healthy looking fridge, the flat started to feel a bit homier. She insisted on helping them unpack a little of the kitchen and get them a bed made up, even if it was a mattress. However, both of the kids looked like they'd had enough after the shopping and unpacking at the third time of telling them not to mess with the tiger skin, Becks elected to leave before damage was done.

Which was why he loved his sister. He loved her, too, because he knew she'd go home and feel relieved to not have house-guests, and it was good to have a space of their own to have.

They had sprung for take away, and there was plenty left as he and John settled down in their new home. It was weird to think about having an actual home.

"I love my sister,' Sebastian murmured, eating a little more fried rice and enjoying the silence.

"Yeah, swap you mine?" John replied. "She's bloody organized."

"She was a grown up long before she should've been," Sebastian half offered. "And it left an impact."

John looked at him a moment. "How did that happen?" he asked stealing what the kids had left of the sweet and sour chicken as he deliberately leant into Seb.

Sebastian settled, a comfortable motion as he picked at more rice, little bits of fried egg mixed in nicely. "Mother. Suicide. Third time was the charm. She'd tried pills twice, but blood thinners and then razors."

John hesitated. "How old were you?" he asked not looking at him at that moment as if he knew that would be too much intimacy at that moment.

It was easier to watch John's hands, to keep tracking the motion with his eye as John nibbled. "Bugger, not much past 10."

"And her?" John asked in a tone that made him wonder if it was all sounding a bit familiar to John.

"She was 14 at the time." Sebastian pushed his shoulder against John's, gently. "And that is a good summary of my family life."

"I guess mine was pretty similar, except I was the older one, and my mother’s suicide was long and protracted and involving alcohol after my father...disappeared," John said. "Harry's been sort of punishing me for leaving to go to university for years. I took the army job to pay her way through Uni, only to have her nearly screw that up a lot of times through drink and addiction."

"She's functioning, though. You did the best you could." Sebastian nudged John's back gently, rubbing a little because he liked the feeling of John's warm skin through his sweater. "I know I put Becks through hell."

John offered him one of the battered balls of chicken. "Mmm. Yeah well family though. Even if I want to throttle her."

"Still feel obliged. I hope Becks isn't sitting on her sofa making faces at the brother in law intoning how much he wants to throttle me." Sebastian was smiling as he said it.

"Jeremy seems pretty laid back," John commented. "I don't think he'll do that.”

"She had to deal with our psychotic father, and a self-centered prick of a little brother. You.... put your sister through college. And I don't know what else." It was half a prompt for John to offer a little more.

"Yeah, but I did piss off the moment I could," John pointed out. "Leaving an alcoholic mother to pass that trait along to Harry, and drink herself finally into an early grave." He shrugged. "Maybe I could have stopped that."

"No, you couldn't. You have the same genetics, and you took the other lesson from it." He leaned forward to set the rice down on the table, and settled back in with a hand behind John's back.

"Harry would say I am an addict in a different way," John replied and stole another bit from the cartons. "Maybe I am."

"What, adrenaline?" Sebastian shrugged a little, settling comfortably. "Pot, kettle."

"Possibly two adrenaline junkies in one place is not the most stable of things," John said. "I'm happy with stable at the moment though."

"I think we both aware of the signs. And you're very good at pointing out what I'm being an idiot. I might be capable of functionally telling you when you're being one too," he teased. It wasn't that John could do no wrong. It was just Sebastian struggle to imagine a scenario where John was being an idiot.

"So. Mutual awareness of being ridiculous." John half laughed. "We've got to buy paint tomorrow. I'm thinking a teal and brown thing. "

John really did have a tasteful streak in him. He rested his chin on John's shoulder, probably comically slouched in. "And it won't clash too badly with the rug?"

"A splash of russet orange works well with it," John said. He snorted. "I'm copying a place one of my friends has. She definitely has taste. "

"Excellent. No reason to throw out a good idea just because you stole it. Brushes as well." Tarps for the floor. Could take them a couple of days to make the place theirs and Sebastian looked forward to the idea of the quiet that would go with it.

"We need to get more of the furniture." John said. "What else do we need? It's one good thing the floor is fine, though it could be polished up some. Unusual to have the wood flooring in a flat."

"Probably excellent for hiding bloodstains," Sebastian mused, leaning back a little to look at the floor. "It's an odd place, but the history makes sense."

"It has history?" John asked lazily. There was something just warming and comfortable about them being together in a place that was there.

"Prior history of criminal activity, and also warehousing. Probably the two intermixed at some point," he drawled. "Remember that staff sergeant in supply?"

"Stevens? Bloody hell, he was a slippery one," John answered. "Okay, history of criminal activity. Got it."

"Still glad you're not mad about the deal. The other upside is... Contacts like Holmes can smooth the way with people who don't. Know what to do with two people they see as heroes and victims." And it seemed a damn sight better than Richard's crazy offer.

"It get's us a place in London at a bargain deal," John said. "I seem to have been Holmsed already as you say just... tell me next time? Before we sign up?"

"I promise to. I... Richard unsettled me. I wanted to make someone aware. It's the kind of thing Holmes likes to know about. Could be a tiny thing, another bad businessman and crazy, but Richard's story never added up, did it?"

"I didn't really know him until after Germany," John admitted. "And he was full of such bullshit about a lot of stuff, I didn't believe anything."

"I tried to search back on him, dig up the old units he'd said he was in and could just never find anyone who remembered him. Then he got his leg blown off and it slipped my mind until he showed up at Becks'." Sebastian leaned forward, still half hugging John from behind, and snagged another morsel of sweet and sour.

"That man is smart, I know that much," John said. "Too smart. I don't like the fact he seems to have fixated on us. On you especially."

“He’s charismatic." Which sounded more like a cult leader than someone he wanted to follow, and his techniques weren't working with where Sebastian was emotionally. Which was luck more than any failing on Richard's part. "So. Out of the frying pan and into a fire I at least know."

"I just get the impression he doesn't take rejection well." John knocked back the rest of his beer. "I just don't know how far he'll go."

"Too far." At least with them moving, he'd drawn immediate fire away from his sister and kids. And he'd warned her to be on the lookout for him.

"Do I need to have my gun handy too far or a general too far?" John replied and glanced at their front room. "We could get a big mother of a plasma with the money we're saving."

"Led. Projector, maybe." He grinned. "I like those ideas quite a bit. Keep your gun handy. I mean, he stalked us to my sister's..."

"If you’re serious about this, we need some sort of code words in case," John said thoughtfully, and he wouldn't have expected a doctor to think like that.

And that was why John was fucking brilliant. He wasn't a doctor who'd happened to become a soldier, he was a soldier who'd happened to become a doctor. "Something neither of us is ever going to say."

"That wouldn't work if one of us was hostage. It would have to be something logical enough to work into a sentence, but something noticeable," John said enthusiastically. "Or something only we know. Like...on our escape."

He felt like a bad fucking officer that John was ahead of him on that. "Thermal blankets? You and your bottomless kit of drugs and IVs?"

John laughed. "Could be. Thermal blankets is something I could probably work into a conversation,."

"What's your strongest memory from that?" He asked it quietly, and if John didn’t want to answer, well. Seb wasn't sure he wanted to answer either.

John paused, rolling the empty beer can between his fingers. "You." It was quiet. "You driving us out of there with one eye and beat all to hell, but still just...doing it."  
He exhaled, half a laugh, half a lack of ability to understand. "If I didn't, you would've died. I remember, just after they took my eye out, you, talking me through a plan when all I wanted to do was claw at the injury and panic."

"I don't remember that very well," John replied. "Just knowing we had to move." It was the most they had talked about that night.

But they were somewhere safe, and a little muzzy from beer and food and it was comfortable. "I remember it very clearly. I kept wanting to put my fingers over my eye, and I was shaking my head like a dumb dog, and you were giving me very firm instructions, and started talking about the room layout."

"Good to know I wasn't off my head at the start of it," John answered. He sighed a little. "Harry tried to show me the video they posted so I 'would know what she was going through. I couldn't watch it."

"... what she was going through?" He'd meant to say that John had kept a cool head in ways that a lot of their special operations folks couldn't, but that distracted him.

"Harry-centric melodrama," John shrugged, wincing a little. as he did so. "It was her way of excusing her absence."

"That your torture somehow traumatized her. I see." Sebastian tipped his head down, and kissed the side of John's neck, lips brushing the collar of his jumper. "No, bugger, I don't see it. You were composed and focused."

"Not when I was being tortured," John replied. "Fuck, why am I telling you this? I can't even talk to the therapists about this stuff."

"You were composed and focused when it mattered," Seb countered. "Anyway, the therapists have been shite." 

"Yeah, they really have haven't they?" John replied. "It's pretty obvious how I feel about everything. Stop asking."

"But how to you feel?" Sebastian asked, mouth twitching a little.

John mock glared at him and poked him in the side with his elbow. "My god, you're one of them...how did you fit those years of training in huh?"

"Same way they did. Not well at all," he half laughed. "No, but you held it together when it mattered. From my perspective."

"And you were the kickass hero from my perspective." John said. "I think the only useful thing the therapist told me is to write stuff down. Might write about it some day."

"You should. I loved reading your reports. That fine line between serious, and gently snarky." At least Doctors were still allowed to write reports in prose.

"Me snarky?" John grinned a little. "Whatever gave you that idea? I was just being creative with the ways idiots injured themselves.

"The disdain and head-shaking was palpable." Sebastian leaned in, and kissed his neck again. "You should write."

"Might do, in among painting decorating and sex," John said. "Speaking of which.."

"Shall we adjourn to the flat mattress in the bedroom?" Sebastian felt warm and muzzy, and comfortable as was already half-holding onto John.

"Yeah, it'll still be more comfortable than the cots back on base," John said. "Plus I've been practically throwing myself at you all day. It's tiring work."

"Your efforts weren't unnoticed," Sebastian murmured, smirking as he pulled at him a little.

"Does it get me anything?" John asked as he let Seb pull him up so they could get to the other room. "I need details."

"Warm arms and a full body massage?" Sebastian half offered, nudging cartons more fully back onto the coffee table.  
"For me or you?" John quipped. "Okay, come on before I fall asleep from eating too much and painkillers."

"You. I'm a little heartier than you are right now," he teased. "And I'm a greedy asshole and I haven't gotten to see you completely naked and relaxed since we were in the suck."

"Yeah, well, it's not as much of a pretty sight as it was before," John replied as they made their way to the bedroom. "I apologize in advance. On the upside we could have a game of noughts and crosses."

"Am I still making the popeye face at random?" Sebastian murmured, pulling slowly at him. "I miss you and me and privacy."

"Privacy, what's that?" John said still smiling. "I want you, here in our own place. Just us, together preferably on every available surface in the house."

"Let's start with the mattress, because I forgot books were so heavy," Sebastian murmured.

"As Becks kindly made it up for us it would be rude not to try it out," John replied smirking a little.

He didn't feel nervous at the prospect, of getting to fully relax and re-explore John. He was excited, and a little worn down, and mostly glad for John's own eagerness because it was infectious as they made their way up the stairs.

The rooms in the apartment were minimalist - neither of them had much in the way of personal belongings, and their bedroom consisted of the mattress on the floor, duvet, a lamp and two bags of their clothes and normal kit tossed in a corner. And it was still the best thing he had ever seen.  
It was theirs, and eventually, he knew it'd start to look lived in. That was how apartments went, and bedrooms, but he was curious how it would develop, sharing a space deliberately with John. Seb knew he was grinning like an idiot when he wandered in closer to the bed, hands idling down to John's waist.

"That's more like it," John murmured turning into him. "Your sister was lucky she didn't come back to something in progress." his own hands moved to lay over his own. 

"My sister would not have been scandalized," Seb murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against John's jaw, bending in for the closeness. 

"The kids might have been," John replied and then at the brushing of lips, immediately went for something a lot more intense and focused. His hand reached around the back off Seb's neck, unerringly hitting one of his hot spots.

"Ah, true. Don't want to, hmn, be an anatomy lesson..." Seb felt a shiver crawl out from the spot, letting his fingers slide down a little to pull at his waistband.

"Mm, " John was exploring up under his shirt with his other hand, and then quirked a smile before deliberately teasing across the back of his neck in feather light touches.

It wasn't at all what Sebastian was expecting, but he liked the sensation, groaning quietly at back of his throat as he half shoved John to sit on the bed. "Clothes, off now."  
"I'm noting that for future use," John replied. Their bed was practically floor level and John deliberately sprawled back. "I could use help."

"Delighted to." Sebastian knelt over John's hips, knowing he looked lanky and odd and not giving a damn as he pulled at John's shirt slowly. He loved all the contact he could get.

John didn't seem to care about his body, and his scars. In fact, quite the opposite, he relished it. He was helping where he could, his shoulder not as flexible as it should be.

It was damage though, so it made sense and Sebastian was easily able to keep it in mind as they moved. It was harder to compensate for his occasional loss of attention prior to compensate for the nagging fear that his misadventures over the years and left him less capable then he been when they had started. Experience versus traumatic brain injury, and a missing eye? He tipped his head in, kissed John, trying to lose himself in how good he felt.

John apparently was very keen on getting skin to skin, pressing himself close, and responding to the kiss.

"Mmm... we've got our own place, and I've got you, " John mumbled as they broke for air.

"Forgot what you felt like." There was remembering and then there was *remembering*, full and warm and close, and his slid his hands down to John's ass and pulled him further up, closer to the center of the bed.

"I'll give you some memories," John said nuzzling into him. "Let those trousers off, I want to see those lanky legs."

"You just want to admire my sagging, neglected runner's physique." He shifted off of John, reluctant to leave the comforting touch, but toed off his shoes while he unbuttoned his trousers. 

"Too damn right. Feels firm enough to me," John replied and he could feel him groping for him in between getting off his own clothes.

It made it easier, that it was less of a show and more of an interaction, skimming his pants and his underwear off at the same time. No one was going to walk in.

No kids to worry about, or wondering if his sister could hear him. Actually, if it had just been her he knew she probably wouldn't care, but there was Jeremy as well.

John was lying back grinning at him, and it was still amazing to him that he wanted him.  
It was fucking bizarre, but he was used to it by now, that John didn't think he was a complete loony, and that when he grinned and moved back in closer to kiss John again, he was answered with a smile back, and an easy look in John’s eyes.

"So, you know here I am naked..." John said and grinned again. "Gonna do something about it?"

"I'm going to fuck you boneless once I remember where the lube is." He offered it in half a laugh, grinning as he pulled back a little.  
"Sentimentalist,” John answered. "There's some in my pack in the little pocket on the side."

"Along with flash drives, spare cords..." He scooted back, leaned down to kiss John's left nipple, and carefully made his way over to the pack.

"Watch out for the dodgy jumper. " John replied from their makeshift bed. "Glad you are getting up. My leg is knackered."

"I'll be the brawn, you can be the brains," he half joked, digging into the little pocket and coming up with gold. John was lucky it hadn't leaked anywhere. 

"Well we're in trouble then," John answered and reached towards him. "I think..you might need some stimulation before that fucking kicks off. "

"Hmn, I'm doing alright..." Not as hard as he could have been, and he enjoyed the feeling of John skin to skin, liked the way he responded and reacted to being touched.

"Well if you don't want me to suck your cock, you just have to say.." John said trying for something he probably thought was a mock pout but looked ridiculous, and he knew it.

It just made Sebastian smile, and he slid his arm around John for a moment, clutching him. "I do. Just want to enjoy... Having you for a moment."

"Like I said, sentimentalist," John murmured in his ear and seemed content to just hold him back then as if he had said the magic word somehow.  
It was funny, how things could go askew and then snap back into place, and Sebastian sighed, turned his head to kiss the side of John's neck in a slow, lazy motion. "Fucking you boneless takes a long buildup, and we have all the time in the world." And he tasted good, with hands that felt familiar, and they were really okay.

"You can take as long as you want," John answered and he was messing with his neck and hair again. It was somehow incredibly comforting and half made him want to purr. One day he'd do that just to make John laugh. One day he'd figure out how to make that noise and sound sexy not stupid, but it was more interesting to slide his fingers down John's stomach, taking his time and enjoying the slide of muscle and not muscle. "Hmn, we don't even have to worry about someone coming in to our cabin." Bunk.

"Oh god yes... remember when we were in yours and that pissed as a newt private came banging on your door just when you were getting into your stride," John answered doing the same on his skin and ribs as if marking their position.

"Half waiting for someone to knock," Sebastian agreed, grinning as he shifted back a little to kiss his way down to John's collarbone. "And I'm not answering the door."

"Rebel," John shifted and squirmed a little under him, moving in that skin to skin contact again.  
He crouched over John, kept his hips low and his body close, dick rubbing against John's hip as he focused on kissing him. John's arms were trying constantly either to push him or pull him closer as if John could not get enough. He could feel his hips twisting to try and rub against him.  
"You're gorgeous," Seb murmured, leaning back a little, while he leaned on one elbow. John's face was just a little flushed, and his hips gave a squirm that didn't do anything but make the warm feeling feel better.

"Says the soldiers pin-up and centerfold," he replied. He dipped his head a little to start kissing and sucking his own way down Seb's neck in earnest.

Sebastian snorted, and kissed his way over to John's nipple, letting his fingers stretch over to pinch the other one. "Am not."

"Ow," John murmured but it wasn't a protest. "Are too, if we're going to be childish about it."

"You can't convince me," Sebastian murmured, chuckling a little as he added, "unless there's people masturbating to photos of national geographic. Then I can agree."

"Well it was the army, " John answered. "I have a lot of evidence they'd masturbate to pretty much anything. Maybe it's just the medics who had you as a pin-up."

"They should've had you." He turned his head, gave a gentle scrape of teeth before kissing the spot.  
He could feel John quiver from that. "God, that's good. Yeah, not as drop dead gorgeous as the CO. "

"That's because you've never seen the face you make when you come," Seb teased. He liked John's solidness, the heat that was just part of his existence, the easy touches.

"No-one has an attractive sex face," John replied rubbing against him again.

"You have an attractive sex face." Sebastian leaned back, and scrunched his face up on one side, around the eyes. And tweaked John's nipple again, enjoying the relaxation. "You do this, and I know I've hit all the right places."

"Well now I feel self-conscious, because I probably look like that if I'm going to have a shit or something," John answered and then either as a coincidence or by design made the exact fast after he tweaked his nipple.

Either way, Sebastian smirked. "No, you look more puzzled when you're taking a shit. Little bear lost in the woods, more like. Sex face is more irked tiger. I should know." 

John snorted and looked up at him. "You're the one who apparently was some sort of cat in a past life," he said and reached to tickle under his chin by way of a joke.

It was hard to not fake purr, but he tipped his head down and brushed his mouth against John's fingers and grinned before sucking on the tips, and ground his erection against John's thigh. "Hmn, where were we?"

"You decided to play with your food," John answered and pushed back against him, creating a delightful friction.

He exhaled, let his head fall forward, and went with the feeling. "I was thinking I need to moisten up my food, then." And keep kissing and feeling his way down.

"Oh god, you can… stop that in... a few hours or so," John said groaning a little. He made great noises.

"Hmn, never? did you say I can stop never?" He kissed down to John's belly button, lingering there and ignoring John's cock purposefully.

"Okay, never. Never… argh.." John was literally squirming now.  
He wanted to keep him like that, on the cusp, enjoying himself and squirming with it, when he reached down and cupped John's balls slowly. 

"Oh that's definitely better," John said closing his eyes in a semi-blissful fashion.

"I missed seeing that face, too." He was hard and he was starting to relax into it, going with it rather than overthinking, feeling John's skin and pulling gently at his balls to get more of that blissed out look from John. Seb leaned in, and kissed the underside of John's dick, letting his mouth linger.

John was groaning every time he did that, and he liked that responsiveness. He didn't have much in the way of inhibitions around Seb which was flattering.

They were comfortable. He was still getting comfortable to being comfortable with someone, but he knew that when he licked up to the underside of John's cock, he'd make a soft sound that Seb knew he wanted to hear over and over.

"Seb...god, you're a tease," John moaned. "I can't even move to touch you properly."

"I'm making a proof of life check," Seb decided, repeating the licking motion again before he tipped his head slightly and sucked the tip into his mouth with care.

"I think you are trying to kill me," John said and he was hooking his good leg around Seb's body.  
He hummed around him, and started to work on sucking John off as lazily and showily as he could manage, rather than give an answer.

"Holy crap, are you trying to make me come?" John said arching a little. "Because I'm about to lose it."

That was okay, Seb decided, because they were both bone tired and he preferred the closeness of John's fingers on his shoulder, the shudders in his thigh muscles as he fondled his balls again and kept sucking, slurping and bobbing his head up and down.

John's moans increased in frequency until he was moving instinctively to try and fuck something. "Fuck.. I'm gonna.." He dissolved into sounds then, unable to restrain himself.

Sebastian looked up, watching and appreciating John's face while he kept sucking and started to swallow warm, slightly salty cum. He kept up with the slurping and the motion of fingers idling at the back of John's cock while he started to go soft, careful now with skin that was sensitive. "Mmm."

John went all loose and relaxed. "That was amazing..." he murmured clutching at him.  
"That is something I've wanted to do and relax doing for weeks." He leaned down, pressed a kiss against soft sensitive skin, and started to kiss his way back up John.

"I for one am grateful for that ambition," John murmured. "Mmm. Give me a moment and I'll be ready for your comeuppance."

"No rush." He laid down beside John, and slung an arm over him, body comfortable despite his hard on. "You feel good."

"You feel bloody amazing," John concurred. "You know I could just lie on my side and you spoon in behind me and..." He left that suggestion dangling.

He kissed John's shoulder, and started to nudge at John's legs. "You're going with my lazy theme for the night then. I want you just like that..." And a hundred other ways, but they could get there.

"Hey, minimal effort on my part," John said and moved himself onto his side. "It also means less acrobatics for my leg."

"It also means I get to feel your ass pressed back against me," Seb murmured, settling into his side behind John and emphasizing how good that felt by sliding his cock up against John's arsecrack.

"Then tonight we're all winners," John answered and Seb knew John would let him do pretty much anything he wanted to.

What he wanted to do was lazy and close and almost mundane, but a sexual spark to their intimacy that he'd been missing among the pain and the stress.  
It was probably healthier than his urges before John. It was easy to just tease at John’s ass and contemplate it lazily. To curl his fingers against John's hips and to idle kisses at the hair at the nape of John's neck. "You're beautiful."

"You're crazy," John replied with a snort of amusement. "Mmm...'s nice."

He shifted his hands down to stroke lazily at John's dick, half hugging him as he rocked his hips up along John's ass. "I could do this all night."

"Don't be offended if I start snoring," John murmured and Seb could tell he was smiling. 

He shifted, squeezed John's balls slowly, and pressed a kiss against where John's jaw merged into his ear. "I think I can prevent that."

"You probably could at that if you put the lube to its proper use," John answered and groaned a little under his breath.

"No, no, I want to tease you more," Sebastian murmured in his ear, but he dragged his fingers around slowly to reach for the lube.

"Oh how will I ever cope with that?" John answered even as he popped the top of the lube. "I don't think I've got enough strength to come twice Seb, not tonight."

"I just want you to feel good," Sebastian murmured, kissing the back of his neck again, his fingers busy with the lube.

"Well I already feel fucking fantastic," John answered. "The only thing that would make it better was knowing you were feeling this good too."

It was weird, Seb wasn't used to partners who genuinely worried when he didn't get off.

It was funny, and Sebastian dragged fingers up to tweak John's nipple. "I'm getting off on just feeling you like this. Nice and leisurely..." And he was going to start playing with John's ass soon.

"Well okay then, I'll just let you get on with it then," he murmured. "Mmm." He was much more mellow post orgasm.

"And we all know I'm always up for that," John replied, arching a little. It was true, John did like that, could take it hard and fast and always seemed to really enjoy it. It wasn't something he did for Seb's sake, it was something he enjoyed. Soon, but Seb was content with slow for at least a few more moments, working his fingers in slowly.

"Better relaxation than a massage any day of the week," John commented, moving a little with each movement. "Internal massage."

"Does it meet the doctor's approval?" Sebastian murmured, leaning in again to suck on the junction of his jaw. Almost, almost...

"I think my prostate needs a more thorough examination," John answered shifting his head to expose his necks a little more.

He took that opening, pressed light sucking kisses even as he eased his fingers out slowly. "Then let's try something different..."

"Whatever could you be referring to?" John said smiling. "Mm. I'm ready."  
It took Seb a moment, slicking himself up carefully before shifting his hips, pressing the head of his cock into John's hole as slowly as he could.

He made that noise again, and pushed back at him a little more. "Oh yeah, that's what I want."

"I should drag this out, torture you with it," Seb murmured, still taking his time pushing in, except that when John pushed back it was hard to not slide all the way in just because he could.  
He got a tight clench around him, just to encourage him. "Mm, whatever you want."

He held still once he was in John, gave a couple of faint rocking motions, and then shifted to hold him close, pulling John's back against his chest. "This is nice."

"Nice?" John sounded faintly horrified. "Cups of tea are ...nice. This is sex."

"Sex can be nice." Seb smiled against his skin, and gave a hard thrust of his hips. "See, nice?"  
"OOo, okay that is…nice," John replied after a moment where he obviously caught his breath. "I'm fine with nice."

"Nice and hard," Seb amended, giving another firm thrust, and starting to fall into a rhythm that had his hips slapping against John's ass comfortably.  
That seemed to suit John better as he moved with him a little until presumably it was hitting the angle he wanted, and then reached back with one arm to find Seb's arm and drag it around the front of him.  
Seb slid his fingers around John's dick, and started to tug gently at him, kept the motion John seemed to like, kept moving his hips until the mattress seemed to start scooting on the floor.

"Dammit Seb, you must have iron control," John managed eventually. "I've already come once."

"You can probably come twice." He just wanted to savor it, to fall into the wonder that was being safe and whole and with John with no threat and no fear wrapped up in a knot in the back of his head.

"Don't rupture anything holding back," he said lightly and just completely relaxed into Seb's hold.

That was the feeling he'd been waiting for, and he thrust harder, letting himself go as he savored the closeness of John, the tightness.  
It was easier then to just lose himself in the sensation and satisfaction of it all. It felt wholesome, comforting as well as compellingly pleasurable. It was sex with emotion attached and he was used to feeling the bright flash burn of an empty passion. This was something else.

This was low constant heat that left him wanting more even when he came, still trying to stroke John off and not sure if he was going to get there, but there wasn't any rush.  
John didn't look like he was going to get there particularly soon but he seemed to be enjoying it nonetheless.

"Uhn." Sebastian squirmed his hips, and squeezed the base of John's dick, giving a half motion of a thrust because he was starting to go soft.

"It's okay, It just feels nice, but I don't think I'm going to make it again. Too tired," John said. "That felt really damn good."

He kissed at the back of John's neck again, lazy nuzzling. "Really enjoyed that." He needed to pull out and John probably needed to hit the bathroom, but he could sleep like that, curled up behind John like that.  
"Mmm. We'll have to do it again when we get the proper bed," John said sleepily. He sounded like he could just drop off at a moments notice.

Sebastian loosened his hold on John's dick, and kept his arm curled around him, more than willing to doze in closeness before they both woke up again to clean up. They could deal with more weighty things in the morning.

* * *

John was starting to feel pretty accomplished. A week in, and their bare flat had been transformed, partly due to Seb's insane focus on getting a job done. The place had been painted through with the colors he had chosen, the new furniture had arrived and been duly broken in, and they'd even gone to Ikea with Becks and had some interior design forced upon them.

There were still things to do but he had made the mistake of saying hello to Sherlock and the next thing he knew he was involved in solving a murder and it was like being sucked up by a whirlwind.

He'd never expected anything like it, and though Sebastian was concerned, it wasn't a jealous sort of concern, more of a confused trying to piece together what was going on except then John was gone again and Seb had thrown himself into the flat.

He had to admit, it had been sort of exhilarating, and Sherlock was even more of an asshole than he thought but an amazing genuine genius, that much was definite. And he felt like he was being useful because he was facing a long period of time before he would be officially practicing medicine again full time. And more to the point, though his leg was aching, it wasn't completely paralyzed with cramps.

Which was why he didn't expect to be whisked off of the street and pulled into a nondescript black car.  
There was still enough paranoia, and yes Post Traumatic Stress response that he fumbled for a gun at his side instinctively - which he wasn't carrying. He made an instant resolution to start carrying it whenever he was doing something like this.

"Do calm down Dr Watson," a non-descript looking man in the back of the car said in a tone that indicated boredom at his predictability. "I just wish to speak to you for a moment."

"It would be easier to calm down if I knew who the hell you are.." John said trying to still his heart.

"I believe you know who I am." He tilted his head down, and smiled, while John tried to breathe and not panic. Long face, long nose, otherwise unremarkable and maybe that was the key. Sherlock would call him an idiot.

"Bloody hell, you're Sherlock's brother. He warned me you'd probably turn up." He'd even said he probably do it in some ludicrous James Bond fashion too but he'd just thought that was Sherlock's hyperbole.  
No, that was *reality*, and given that he'd been there in for the flat that he was mostly sure Sebastian was still making livable... He half supposed he shouldn't be rude, even if it was tempting. Extremely tempting. "Ah, so he told you. I'm intrigued that he's taken so *well* to you."

"So well? He just spent the day insulting me for idiocy and dragging me all over London," he replied, trying to dredge up the name. "I would barely say luke warm."

"That's how my brother expresses great fondness," the man murmured, the edges of his mouth pulling up in a look that was a smile in some sick world. 

"Well ..great. Good to know," John said a little awkwardly. "So why all the cloak and dagger? I know about the terms of lease and all that, but I would have thought Seb would be more your bodyguard type."

"In good time." The man sighed, "And I hadn't anticipated that you'd put two and two together so *precisely* quickly. You're smarter than you read out to be in your dossier, I suppose there's a reason why the Colonel was also so taken with you."  
"Steady, I've been in the army and I can take a backhanded compliment with the best of them," John answered a little bit prickled by the various casual insults mixed in there. "Good to see the social awkwardness is hereditary."

The tight smile that wasn't a smile included a nose wrinkle, and Mycroft sighed. "You will, of course, keep an eye on my brother?"

"Keep an eye on him? I can barely keep up!" John protested. "He doesn't listen to a word I say anyway, and I've known him all of a couple of meetings and a crazy day of running around investigating."

"Just keep at it, then. Having a companion on his adventures will extend his lifespan by half again." John wasn't sure if the man was being sarcastic or not, given the way his voice tipped up.

"What to a day and a half rather than a day?" John answered. "Look...uh, Mycroft is it? I'm sure you don't mind me calling you that as you seem to have no problem inviting me into your car - look, I don't control your brother and I don't think anyone can."

"I never suggested you could control him. Simply that you could be a positive influence, captain. Similarly, your partner as agreed to notify me should he see signs of drugs or other suspicious activities."

"Well...define suspicious activities. He keeps human body parts in his fridge," John pointed out with what he thought was calm reasonableness

Mycroft waved a hand. "Cast off parts for experimentation, how dull."

"Not usually found in a fridge next to the milk," John pointed out. "Obviously we have different perspective on what is normal or out of the ordinary."

"You're looking for the wars, Captain Watson, not a knitting club. If you miss the wars..." He inclined his head, "my brother can be a fine substitute."

"He's an interesting man, but I'm not going to be friends with someone because I'm told to do so." John pointed out.

"Conveniently, I believe you already were headed that way, so perhaps it's best I just leave you off where you were heading."

"Mmm, you know you don’t have to drag me into a car if you want a word. I have a phone," John pointed out. “If you want the number."

The man sighed, and then uttered, "Yes, yes, go on. I'll contact you in more mundane ways henceforth."  
John tried not to roll his eyes at that. "I would appreciate it," he said. "Just don't try this sort of thing with Seb - he's likely to give you a good kicking before you get to introduce yourself."

"Yes, well, let us hope my colleague is having better luck than I am," Mycroft agreed in a humming noise. "I already have your mobile number."

"I am...not surprised," John answered and he really wasn’t, not after a couple of days with Sherlock. "And I hope your colleague doesn't mind a black eye or two."

"It is in his preferred line of work." Mycroft's words seemed precisely chosen -- that it was one of his duties, but that it was something he wouldn't actually mind. Whoever the man is. The car pulled up to a stop, firm enough that John felt it. "Good luck."

"I'd like to say it was a pleasure Mycroft," John said blandly as the door popped open and he shifted to get out.  
"Yes, well, let's not make a liar out of you, Captain," he drawled. The car barely waited for John to be standing on the sidewalk when it peeled off.

Time to get home and see if Seb were there or if he had had an unexpected detour as well.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was a giant fucking disruption, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen John so excited, so full of energy, so Sebastian let it be. He had things he needed to do, and he had half a mental track to focus on, and he wasn't going to live in John's back pocket.  
Their flat was looking pretty good, partly because when he started he just didn't stop until the job was done, so there was new paint smell, new furniture small, new carpet smell and shit loads of packaging in the rubbish. He needed to get out, stretch the kinks out while John was running around and doing crazy things. They were close enough to Regents park for him to do a decent run there...probably not on the actual running track but he could scope it out.

He could lope around it a few times and get a feel for the neighborhood, the tone of the place in the current moment. He kitted out, old t-shirt and shorts, and runners that had seen better days and headed out to reacquaint himself with a more relaxed headspace.

His muscles were tight but he felt the burn as they stretched and relaxed and then it came back, that old movement. John called it a 'lope' because he said it looked too casual to be a run for all he was going faster than anyone else. It was a pretty nice day. Not too hot or cold, a bit over cast and his phone guided him to the park itself. It was a magnificent place. Suddenly like discovering real country side in the city and that was a damn site better than running a city route.  
He kept his head on a swivel, and his alertness was high, but the park, the park was relaxing, and made him feel assured enough that he wasn't in the desert, wasn't in Afghanistan, wasn't any of the other places he'd called home during his life.  
He was aware of other runners, joggers running or walking the tracks. Most of them were just fitness runners but he spotted someone up ahead of him running unmistakably with the movement of someone in the army, someone who had run over obstacles and for their life. He had a fucking magnificent ass which was a bit difficult to avoid watching.

He was in a good relationship, but it didn't mean he was dead, and he'd be silly to miss eyeing an ass like that, even as he fell into step behind him. It was definitely an... interesting piece of scenery.  
He paced him a while and the man seemed to have the honed instincts to know when he was being watched because he glanced over his shoulder and slowed his pace to allow him to come along side. He looked older than Seb but was the type of man who wore it well. "Paul Gregson," he said not stopping and sticking out a hand as they were still jogging.  
"Seb Moran." He shook the man's hand, and turned his head to scan the area ahead of them as they kept going. That was good, it was always good to know who people were in the area. 

They ran on for a bit, just companionable in their jogging. They hit a long stretch with a statue visible at the end and Paul said, "Race to the statue?" with a smirk and a quirk of an eyebrow.  
"You're on." Sebastian waited half a beat and started in a full out bolt of speed.

Paul laughed and caught him up, pushing his body to draw level and try and get past him. He was even surer that this Paul was on active duty because he didn't look like he was pushing himself too much.

It was a struggle to try to pass the man, but Seb hadn't had to run in a long time, hadn't wanted to, hadn't felt the urge, but now, now he had a challenge, even if it was some guy still in the service that he was trying to show up.

He just managed it as they reached the statue, and came to a halt laughing. "Long legged bastard," Paul said with a grin. "I'd've had you over a longer distance."

"I just got out of the rehab hospital, so I'm not feeling too shabby," Seb grinned, twisting to look at the man. "What's your unit?"

Gregson paused as if re-assessing something about him, giving him a good look over. "Your future one with any luck," he said. "Shit, okay you're not stupid. I could try and suave and do all that crap is, but I can see you'd figure this through in a couple of minutes. "I'm one of Mycrofts happy little bunch. Here to give you an offer you can't refuse. "

Literally, and Sebastian looked over his shoulder, unnecessarily, but knowing it showed off his missing eye. "Why don't we find a place to get a drink."

"There's a coffee place over there that's not bad unless you want to pick the spot," Paul said and Seb could tell he was being careful with him. Not wanting to spook him or anything.

Still, his jogging route had been seeded with an operative with a hot ass, and he had no history of jogging in that area, in any area in the city. It was enough to spook the most calm of men, but Seb nodded and shrugged one shoulder. "You know this part of town better than I do. Lead the way."  
Paul elected to do so by jogging and it really was only a couple of minutes away at the speed they jogged. The other man didn't say anything more than pleasantries and small talk until he bought the coffees and had them sitting down at their comparative ease. "Let’s try that again with the introductions. Paul Gregson...also once Colonel, Special forces. Also uh...invalided out."

"Yeah?" He half wanted to ask if Mycroft had developed a taste for broken toys, but he bit that back. "Mine's obvious. Yours?"

"Op gone wrong. POW all that sort of shit. Psych eval pretty much wouldn't commit to leaving me in charge of a shit load of soldiers. The physical stuff I got over after a while but the official notation about never having command over a regiment or anything like that," Paul answered. "You don't get to wipe that off."

"No. No you don't." And he had a mark like that, softer, but if Paul was Mycroft's man he’d know about the brain injury, he'd know everything, about Sebastian's rage over his men's deaths. He took a sip of his coffee, watching Paul. "What do you command now?"

"You've done your research on Mycroft right?" Paul asked as if that was a given. "I'm telling you, I'm going to rip the guys who gave me the intel on you a new one. Sloppy. 5 seconds and I could tell you'd see through a basic play which all I was recommended to do. My own fault for not running my own intel but I was out of the country. Anyway, Mycroft..the literal power behind the throne. The man who *gets things done* is the phrase that comes up a lot." Paul grinned a little looking almost boyish. "Want to guess how he 'gets things done'?"

"Doesn't take a genius," Sebastian murmured, "I worked a few missions in his name when I was still in the service. I'm curious if you're being allowed to command yourself, or if he's letting you have teams."

"I've run a few solo, and I put together team units," Paul said. "Depends on the need. He's probably had you planned as a contact since you were born. That's a Holmes for you. Anyway, we have a legitimate Defense consultancy business front, which actually does do all of that stuff, and has a good name for it. But most of the time, we are training or running ops as and when needed for Queen and country...just more like Very Special forces."

And he assumed they used the coffee shop as a drop zone, so all the employees had to be on the take or they never would've had that conversation that. "No point in trying to talk you out of it, is there?"

Paul shrugged. "Eh, it's optional," he said. "You don't have to do it. I'm not going to force it. But you'll be missing out on a lot of running, climbing up things, falling out of them, blowing shit up and a crap load of powerpoints because I'm telling you, that's the first thing on my delegation list."  
He snorted, and took another sip of coffee. "And I was just moaning to John because who wants a one eyed sniper."

"You know as well as I do, after a certain point the marksmanship becomes something you...feel.” Paul said. "You'll compensate. I've got a promising new sniper coming on at the moment. He's got it, but he doesn't get it if you know what I mean. It's difficult to find someone good enough to get his respect to teach him. Could do a bit of consulting there if you don't want to sign up straight off."

"I'll sign." Because John had been drawn into Sherlock's life, and they'd been standing at the edge of a cliff, stuck, and he wasn't going to say no to an interesting way to un-stuck himself.

Paul looked at him. "Seriously? No questions about pay or benefits?" he asked after a moment.

"No. I assume the pay is substantial enough to preclude agents turning tail for money." Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at him. "And it would not be dumb to bet the benefits are on par.

"Yeah but you should still ask," Paul chastised. "Besides I've got a presentation somewhere." He grinned a little. "But you're right, it is pretty damn good. But I want to know what you feel you might be best served doing. Your own skills assessment and none of the usual bullshit we pull at performance reviews." 

"Officer Efficiency Report: After the shitting in the dinfac, recommend separation from service because lack of respect for the authority of command," Seb uttered, mock filling out a report. "No, god, did you pull this one out of broadest questions to ask a person on the shortest notice? I'm a planner, and a killer."

"Yeah, I've got that noted. That tells me bog all about you." Paul said. "I've got your record, which I had for all of half an hour before I got sent out to find you. What do you like doing, not what the army made you do and you were good at while hating it."

He took another sip of his coffee. "I like sizing up a mission end point and working all the steps to get there. Could be back from an office, could be from the overwatch before going down. I enjoy it when shit is going wrong. My sense of morals is... Loyal, but of dubious taste." 

"To your men first and foremost," Paul said. "I get that. Okay, first off, you need to retrain your skills. I need to get a grip on what team I can put together with you in it and what particular part of Mycroft's Swiss army knife that team can be. So, we'll get the contract sent over and for fuck's sake read it. It's got damn good medical, I can tell you that much. If and when you sign, I'll take you to the range, run you around the obstacle and fitness places."

"I'm off my fitness game," he admitted, "They were a bit pissy about me trying to exert myself after all of the surgery." But he supposed Paul could see the potential.

"Yeah, but even running now, you'd kick the asses of a fair few," Paul said draining his cup of coffee. "Questions?"

"How long've you been at it?" He wanted to hear more. That was the thing with shadowy organizations, they knew fucking everything about you and you knew sod all about them.

"Me? Working for Mycroft?..sorry, the Government," Paul considered. "Got booted out of special ops around 2006. Seems a long time ago. Spent a year or so stewing and trying to unfuck my brain with partial success, then Mycroft dangled the bait in front of my nose."

"Did we ever cross paths?" He made a vague gesture. It was hard to guess what people looked like when they were in reg, living a different lifestyle, and their community was small but not so small that everyone knew everyone else. 

"Don't think we met face to face but there were a couple of ops we were on co-operating teams," Paul said smiling slightly. "If I spoke over comms you might recognize me."

"Might've, yeah. I went by Last." He didn't have to explain it, didn't want to, just liked handling a name he hadn't gotten to be in a while. The Last Bastion – or bastard on occasion.

Paul laughed "Shit yeah. Then we were. They put me out as 'Saint'. " Saint, he remembered that and it made sense now - Saint Paul. He remembered an operation where Saint blew a building on the fly to provide a distraction so he could get out rather than withdrawing as the mission brief had instructed. He could've done... maybe should've done but there had been some spectacular swearing over the comms and yeah, not subtle but it had worked. The team had gotten out.  
"Pleasure to finally meet you, Saint. I left SAS to try to build a career ladder and normal forces was harder than all that shit." He held a hand out, as he was finally introduced to some spark of more than an agent. An agent with a past.

"You too Last." Paul clasped his hand. "I never forget someone who pulls my ass out of the fire and I remember that Middle East debacle. You were hot shit. Then you had to go and set a good example for your men. Bet you couldn't recommend leaping around from rooftops then."

"I could recommend how best to misjudge my own ability to overcome a distance and nearly end up splatted like a cartoon coyote," Seb drawled, grinning a little as he relaxed and sipped at his coffee again.

"If you made that jump in the Olympics, you'd be a world record holder," Paul said. “Wanted to get to meet you then, but you got shipped off and so did I." He shrugged. "Was that you in South America? The sniper shot in 2009?"

He chuckled, and it was a giveaway, a good a tell as any that said yes. "I've been around. Some things I can never confess to, because I don't want to end up in the Hague in all the wrong ways."

"Yeah well, there's one code I subscribe to regardless of orders. You disappear, the team is coming looking, " Paul said. "That's the way it works. There are no acceptable losses. Unavoidable sometimes, but never acceptable."

"Acceptable casualty doesn't look good on a gravestone. John'll be glad of that." Seb stretched his legs out comfortably, still watching Paul.

"Seems like a decent guy," Paul commented. "From his files. To be honest, if he's sucked into Sherlock's orbit you'll be glad of being in Mycrofts."

"I figured as much." It would keep him loosely informed and he could keep up on John's safety better. "He's extremely capable."

"That's if he doesn't end up punching Sherlock in the face a few times. That's the normal reaction," Paul said with a grin. He glanced at his watch. "I think Mycroft is intending to have a word with him."

"Ah, times it so we'd be simultaneously occupied?" Nice smooth operation. That wasn't half as concerning a fact as it might have been under other circumstances.

"Just in case either one of you got a bit protective. Your escape together documents extra capacity for...the unusual. One of the reasons I want to recruit you."

They weren't extraordinary, they were just desperate to survive. And lucky. Sebastian finished his coffee, and kept watching the man, watching his posture, trying to read him. "If I'd seen you bundling him into a car, I think your car'd be at least missing a handle." And possibly a window. Because John, John... yeah. "I'm not sure that's unusual."

"Yeah," Paul shrugged. "Explaining the protocol of doing this separately. If it's any help, John will now have the same sort of protection as we give to the most important people in the UK."  
Strange, but acceptable to Seb, though he knew it had everything to do with Sherlock and nothing to do with him. "I'll keep that in the back of my mind. I've... I've lost so many men, one just went flat out batshit, I'm not letting anything happen to John."

"Good. So, anything else you want to ask?" Paul asked leaning back.

"I'm assuming you're following up on the lead I offered. Or someone is. It's concerning." He was going to talk around it as well, but other than that, no, no questions. Everything would follow, and when he was already chewing on the hook, why request more bait?

"It is being processed," Paul said. "If there is something, it'll be found."

"There's something," he iterated. "You know when you can feel it at the base of your spine, that something is wrong feeling."

Instead of dismissing it Paul gave a curt nod. "I'll review the information personally," he said. It was good to have that instinct taken seriously.

"Thanks. I think we've exhausted what we can talk about in public, so... Any hobbies?" He was halfway to laughing even asking it.

"Mmm, inventing new ways to blow something up, fall out of a tree and polishing my… weaponry," he said with a smirk.

"I enjoy oiling my weapons," Seb deadpanned back, grinning. "I need to get back to shooting. Do you know a good distance range?" And did he maybe want to go out shooting, that was an option.

"I'll give you access to ours. It'll be part of brushing up your skills," Paul replied. "There's weaponry you can try out."

He chuckled a little, eyeing Paul openly. "So, are you actually gay, or just the most interesting bait I've ever met?"

"There are those who might say my orientation is as flexible as a compass in a barrel of magnets," Paul contemplated. He smirked a little. "I'd do you in a second but there probably a rule against propositioning someone when you offer them a job."

And from his files, Seb was sure his record was clear and well known to people like Mycroft. "You're gorgeous, no question. It was hard to not see you out running."

"I'll use it as a motivator when you are in my dust on the training circuit," Paul answered. He was being flirty but Seb appreciated that he wasn't pushing it full on.

Just mellow, and not a turn off. "Must run faster, great ass it getting away?"

"Pretty much," Paul said smiling. "I like an interesting time. But hey, you're in a relationship."

"And it's going well. I promise I'll try not to be the asshole who does nothing but talk about their significant other." Even if John and the bizarre domestic things were quite present topics in his mind.

"I can deal," he replied. He glanced at his watch. "And I reckon any moment now, said significant other will be hot-foooting it back to your place to find you." Paul got up. "I'll message you with details."

"And I'll wait for the official papers." He stretched his hand out, standing up as well. "Good run."

Paul shook it. "Barely a stroll," he said with a grin. "They'll be with you this afternoon."

And now he had a long walk, or jog back to the apartment. He let Paul lead the way, but broke contact as soon as they were both out of the store because he didn't want John to think he was missing, and some things weren't best explained on mobile.

He practically ran back to Baker Street, the phone ringing in his pocket just as he reached the street, just outside their place. John.  
  
Safe, safe, safe, and he felt an urgency because his rendezvous hadn't been traumatic, but he still felt detached and John was hopefully inside and not doing the case. He'd run faster to get home than the lope around the park, and started up the stairs. "John?"

"Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" John said his voice in the clipped almost brusque manner he had when he was really worried.

"Coming up the stairs. Long story. Unlock the door." He clung to the banister one handed, and turned the corner sharply.

He heard the click of the door above him and could see John hanging up as he watched him close that last bit of distance. "Jesus, Seb, I thought someone had taken you."

"Got pulled into an impromptu job interview." He sped his way up the last few stairs, checking John out for signs he'd been mistreated.

"A job interview?" John seemed surprised, and compelled it seemed to grab hold of him. "I just got the big black car treatment."

He slid an arm around John, held him tight as he reached him at the top of the stairs. "Holmes?"

"Holmes the elder," John acknowledged. "Last thing he said was someone might be having a word with you and it was just... I didn't like to think of you being taken somewhere against your will."

"I went out for a run and an agent met up with me out there." He hugged John a little harder. "Let's talk inside." 

The smell of fresh paint still lingered and they moved inside closing the door behind him. "I think the Holmes' like melodrama, " John said. "So what happened to you?"

"Former special ops guy ran with me and then took me to a coffee shop. I didn't know you'd gotten the black car treatment." He scanned the inside of the livingroom, and relaxed a little.

"That seems comparatively civilized," John said. "Mine was just a sort of introduction and I guess a warning about Sherlock and what I should do. What's this about a job interview? What job?"

"Holmes's personal pocket killers," Sebastian said, smirking a little as he half walked John over to their sofa. "They'll work with my skill set. Seems to be made up of Special Forces rejects."

"Mycroft has a black ops team?" John asked. "You want to do that? Go back into that line of work?"

"Sounded like they were looking for someone to work the legit contracts side of the house, as well. I..." He searched John's face for a hint in either direction about his own thoughts on it. "What else can I do?"

"Look, Seb," John seemed hesitant. "I want you to do what you want to do. Not what you feel you have to do. IF you want to take the job, then I'm with you. If you don't then...well, there was that newspaper who wanted our story, or we ..I could write it properly for money if we get short."

"It's not about the money. It's..." Seb shrugged a little. "You have a skillset you're trained on that translates well to the rest of society. I know military types are supposed to be good managers, but can you see me managing an office? Call centre? Really *really* imagine that with me for a moment, John."

John snorted. "Yeah, there would probably be more fatalities there than in Afghanistan. You could retrain but you are the type to be active and kick ass regardless."

"Not particularly welcome on an office floor." Seb grinned a little as he said it, relaxing and still watching John. His honestly was almost damning sometimes. "So, I think I'll deal with it and see what it looks like."

"Okay." John seemed to trust his word and his decision. "This isn't because of Sherlock is it?"

"Which part, the job offer, or my taking it?" He was still accustoming himself to the reality of being able to ask that question, and knowing that John would actually answer.

"Taking it mainly," he said. "I don't want you to think you have to take it because of me or anything."  
  
"Nah, though that does make it convenient," he teased. "The only other offer which included real work was Richard, Jim whatever the hell his name is. Which was also in our respective wheelhouses, except... Not a good thing."

"Unstable is ...understating it," he said. "As long as you are sure, and don't get injured, go for it."

"If I'm not actually fit for the task, they won't risk putting me on it." Not out of any sense of preserving him, but out of a sense of meeting mission, and Seb could respect that and accept it comfortably. "And I think I need to crack a window or paint fumes might kill us both."

"Yeah, good plan," John agreed. "So, dinner? As long as I don't get dragged out again."

"Mm. I was going to grill up some fish if you think the door won't fling open at any moment. Do you want to talk about the case at all?" He'd grill us some fish no matter what John answered, and if he ran out again, Seb'd keep it somewhere warm so John could eat it later. Breakfast if he had to.

"Sure," John said. "I've no bloody idea where it's going but you can be as confused as I am. I'll do some veg."

Not a bad way to end the day at all, Seb decided, scruffing a hand up the back of his own head as he stood up. "Excellent."


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

John heard his phone beep for what was the 30th time in a row. Mycroft was right, Sherlock was a bloody nightmare when he didn't have a case. Or anything to occupy him. In some ways it was worse than when they were on a case because Sherlock would disappear into his mind palace and he would get peace and quiet for a bit. Right now he needed the quiet because Seb was due back and he really wanted to see him. He had been overseas somewhere with Paul - and John occasionally had a prickle of jealousy about him because Seb idolized the man - and had missed their last phone call. Seb didn't miss phone calls.

It made him anxious, because was Seb in danger, or was Seb just blowing him off? And as petty as it seemed, he hoped he wasn't being blown off, because he wasn't in a mental space to deal with the start of something going south and Sherlock bored.

He checked his phone again in case it had been Seb, but it was Sherlock telling him to blog something so he could get a case. Considering how derisive Sherlock had been about his blog, he must be really bored. John got up and poked at the dinner he had ready that might get cold. Did he go on and eat? Or… would it look like harassing Seb if he called again? They'd had a bit of a disagreement before Seb left and John still wasn't entirely sure what he had done wrong, or what he had triggered off. Sherlock had just called him an idiot and wouldn't tell him, but Seb had been freaked out by something and wouldn't talk about it so he had to assume it was him as they talked about everything else.

It was just... it left him hanging, and then if he reached out again and got nothing *again*... then what? Then what did he do? Except he couldn't not call.

Frustrated, he got up again, pacing ...well limping aimlessly as he thumbed another text to Seb. ' Dinner's ready and waiting' was neutral and he wanted to throw the phone across the room as he waited for a reply. Nothing.

He sighed and seriously considered going over to see if Sherlock was doing anything. He was going crazy here.

He nearly jumped as there was a knock at the door. Not Sebastian, and not Sherlock, because no one was demanding to be let in, and Sebastian had his own keys, or would've texted. It put John on edge, because they didn't *have* visitors, except their sisters, and never a knock. He stopped, pivoting to retrieve his service revolver from the desk.

He opened the door carefully and almost froze in dread when he realized that it was Mycroft. Immediately his mind went to the worst case scenario. Something had gone wrong, it had to have wrong, and Mycroft was here to break bad news. Shit.

“Mycroft...” he said as calmly as he could opening the door and letting the other man in.

"John. Please, sit down." There was a calculating gleam in his eyes, more than usual, and John knew the next words out of his mouth, in a way. In the military, they usually did it with a Chaplin and one other person that you designated, someone from your unit, but with the way Holmes did things, it didn't surprise him a whit that it was just the man himself. He wondered numbly if Seb's sister knew yet.

“What happened?” he asked sitting down. “What happened to Seb?” It would have been a phone call if he'd been injured. He abruptly felt sick, physically sick as a chill swept over him. Shock most likely.  
Shock at his pending nerves, maybe, and Mycroft hesitated, fingers pinching the tip of his cane as if it helped him concentrate. "He and agent Gregson are in pursuit of a particularly challenging foe."

“So you are not here to tell me he's dead?” John blurted out. He leaned forward. Jesus… his heart was going like he was in a combat situation.

"That we know of. I'm here to tell you that his circumstances are less than positive at the moment…" Mycroft twisted his cane. "As I suspect by now he's proven to be unreachable."

“Okay.” John nodded. “Where are they? Or were they? Were they on a mission together? Is anyone going after them?” It depended he knew, on the mission sensitivity, but if Mycroft couldn't, he would.

"They were following up on a lead in Eastern Europe, and have taken to the ground due to their target's interest. I expect him to turn his attentions to you," Mycroft mused slowly, not a motion of any sort giving him away.

“To me?” John frowned. “Why to me? To draw them out?” Bait most likely. A role he was familiar with after hanging out with Sherlock - he never hesitated to use him as bait usually without telling him. He could deal as long as Seb was alive. Probably alive.

It was just as likely that Mycroft would use him as bait whether Sebastian were dead or alive. "Because if Sebastian is correct, you served with our target in the army."

It took a moment but it suddenly dawned. “Richard? Uh, Jim or whatever the hell he calls himself?” John shook his head. “He's a target? The guy's a nutjob I'll give you that but enough to warrant your intervention?”

"You have no idea," Mycroft drawled. "The man you knew did not exist before he 'transferred' into your unit, a feat which is hard to do undetected."

That floored him again and he couldn't get his head around how someone could perpetrate the fraud necessary to do that. “How the hell… but he was in combat. Injured in combat...why would he infiltrate to have that happen?” He frowned, considering Richard had been in an ideal information trading role and not one usually on the front lines.

"That's an interesting question, isn't it?" Mycroft smiled, tilted his head down. "What did he have access to, what did he care about? Tell me of your interactions with the man, John."

John grimaced a little. “I didn't really know him that well before uh, we met up in Germany on leave. Seb knew him better. He...well, he seemed a bit of a slippery bastard to be honest but some of the best quartermasters and requisitioners have that sort of... used car salesman vibe. Some of the stories were..well I wrote them off as the normal crazy shit you do when you're out there but after his injury, he approached us with job offers in a really...odd way. We turned him down.”

"He wanted you to work for him," Mycroft countered. "And risked life and limb to gain access to, what? Military secrets the man could get without losing a leg. But people…" People. Mycroft sighed, and John could almost see all the pieces come together at once.

“He wanted Seb,” John said suddenly. “He was the target, I was the...get one free medic tossed in to the bargain. He said he'd be back but we thought he was out of it. Who the hell is he?”

"A shadow. A suggestion of a person. Your contact with him as the most clarity we have on him, have ever had on him. Why he wanted to hire Sebastian in particular… I suppose he saw something he could mold." 

“Mmm.” John frowned. “There is that but it's possible you are being a bit cerebral about this Mycroft. Have you been looking for him? In uh...a certain type of club?” He remembered the almost encyclopedic knowledge Richard had regarding clubs like the one in Germany. And the way he had tried to invite himself into a threesome, and in retrospect, set John up with a gangbang of sorts.

"Of course." There was a tsk to Mycroft's voice, a suggestion that he couldn't believe John had even asked. "And doctors, as he will still require medical care for his amputation. Prosthetic makers."

“Do you think he has them?” It wasn't just Seb, he had to remember that, even if Paul was everything Seb would fall for.

"It's impossible to say. They contacted their trail to indicate they were going to ground for safety's sake. I am unable to tell if it was effective or not, as effectively going to ground leaves me with the same lack of information as their capture."

Okay. Okay, could be better, could be worse. “Right. What are we going to do about it?” John asked pulling himself together.

"I need Sherlock to begin looking into this. There are threads within threads, which I've attempted to reach him about…" Mycroft cleared his throat. "Perhaps you can be more persuasive."

“You know he automatically rejects most things you toss his way,” John said. “Give me the information...if Sherlock refuses, then I'll work on it, and he won't be able to cope with seeing me miss the obvious all the time.”

"Then that's settled. I hope to address this soon, and we'll be able to resolve the issue of the location of your... Partner."

"Do you have any information you can give me now?" John said trying not to be impatient. Seb was in trouble and it sounded like very little was being done to get him out right now.  
He hoped, assumed, that Seb was safe. And that was why there was no urgency. Mycroft pulled a flash drive out, and offered it to him. "This and your own experiences are all we have."

It was just a question of whether he walked out with Mycroft or not. And doing it seemed more likely just then. "I trust that you will."

Mycroft was getting up to leave and habit made him get up to see him to the door. "I'll let you know any developments," he said already planning in his head to go over the information then visit Sherlock.  
Seb's persistent unease with the man, after he'd lost the leg, his memories of that night, the knowledge that Richard had stalked them to Seb's sister's house.

"Right. Thanks." He took the item. His own experience... of knowing Seb and Richard... or whatever hell he was calling himself now.

* * *

This wasn't what he'd signed up for. Adventure and paperwork, yeah, chasing down things he knew, but he wasn't ready to do hostage situation again. They'd given them a good run. Paul had definitely done this before but they had been pursued and chased all through Europe, before they had closed in on them the moment they made it back to the UK. That final firefight told him they had been prepared to capture them all along the moment the gas grenades had been used. Not kill, but keep and capture, which left him on edge, because for what purpose? Propaganda, ransom? What could be leveraged from Mycroft?

He hadn't seen Richard ...Jim yet but this was his style, he was sure of it. Paul was sitting, studying the manacle on his foot and one hand, bolted into a concrete floor as if he could pick the locks with his mind. "Fuck this," he muttered. "Feels like he's got plans."

"No shit." Seb sighed it as he studied the lock as well, though he quickly decided it wasn't going to get him anywhere. "What would you find compelling enough to join the army to get?"  
"Depends on the game you're playing." Paul said. "Good place to stock up on hardware and personnel if you go about it right."

"And if you go about it wrong, you lose a leg," Seb murmured. That made the stakes higher, bitter-er, didn't it?

"Yeah, he's definitely got a personal thing going on here," Paul said pulling at the chain again. "Not sure if that will work for you or against you... or for me for that matter."

"I carried on with him for a bit." Not that he needed to say it, but he couldn't just assume that Paul knew and it was best to leave the man armed.

“Did he ever give any hints it was more?” Paul asked. “Just wondering why the personal treatment that's all.”

"No hints that I ever knew." He was half sure there was a microphone in there, because why wouldn't there be? It was just a matter of finding where it was, and if he could do something about it.

Paul nodded and glanced repeatedly at the door as if he was convinced someone would be turning up any moment. Obviously the conversation had been a provoking tactic to try and get Jim to show himself. "Well, it's not like he's stable."

"I wish I knew what he got out of it." Seb leaned back, hit his head lightly on the wall. "Unbelievable to end up captured twice."

"Yeah." Paul said. "Unbelievable." And there was something in the way that he said that which set Seb wondering even as there were sounds at the door, as metal was moved.

Seb stood, ready to bolt, and then forced himself to relax and not waste whatever opportunity was about to present itself.

The door swung open, and there leaning against the door frame, smirking was Jim. "Hellllooo boys," he said drawing out the word. "Have you been having a heart to heart? A bit of boy-chat? Seb, so good to see you."

"Richard." He inclined his head, looking up and taking him in. He was dressed sharper, more pulled together, and it made him wonder if it was a mask, or if the unhinged Richard from his sisters house was the mask. "It's certainly... something to see you again."

"Isn't it just? Did you miss me Sebby?" His eyes glittered, looking black from where he was on the other side of the cell. "I'm so glad you decided to come out to play. It's been so...boring. "

And how did he engage with a madman? Positively, not at all or naturally? "I'm not sure this counts as coming out to play. After all, I'm in here and you're out there."

"You could so easily be out here," Jim said. It was easier to think of the crazy version as Jim and the bearable army version as Richard. "How do you feel about revisiting that job offer?"

"For the high pay, I don't think you included all the tasks required," Sebastian countered, grinning a little to try and mask his anxiety and groping desperately to reach past panic.

"Details?" Jim shrugged. "A criminal network is almost identical to the army. Or a big business. So perhaps there is a little more literal blood."

"Or less." Sebastian tilted his head a little. "So as a guy playing it straight, you come off as schizophrenic. Drooling madman with pipe bombs and IRA flags in his basement. This is a better presentation for you."

"It's because I don't have a decent second," Jim answered coming in a bit closer. "All this trivial stuff, it's driving me crazy."

"You mean, running a command. The less glorious things." Sebastian pulled at the chains. "Funny shit, bit hard to do like this."

"Well we could go somewhere more conducive to...socializing. Sorry Paul, you're not invited. But you know, I can leave you with a nice present," Jim said flourishing some sort of anklet. Heavy and bulky. He had moved briskly over and even as Paul tried to move rapidly managed to sucker punch Paul enough to clip it around his ankle. "If Sebby misbehaves, I'll be introducing you to the finest prosthetic producers in the world."

Then Sebastian supposed he'd be behaving. He grimaced, letting the implications process through him as he waited for his release. "Not a subtle game..."

"Well, we were soldiers once weren't we?" Jim winked as this was all good fun. He gestured and two men came in and efficiently unlocked Seb's own manacles. He thought he might even recognize one of them.

The RTO. The fucking RTO, *that* was why that fucker had survived! Sebastian held back on a spike of fear and rage, as he was stood up smoothly. "Now it all makes sense. You fucking orchestrated all of it!" Sebastian hissed as he let himself be dragged off.

The man flipped him a mock salute and a smirk, but said nothing. "What can I say? The locals can be very obliging with their focus given the right motivation?" Jim said. "Chop, chop Seb, we've got dinner, entertainment and ...negotiation to do."

His eye. His, that whole fucking thing, his *god damned eye*, John's chest, John almost dying, and his unit, it all made sense and there was no stopping his rising anger except the bomb around Paul's ankle.

Seb found himself pushed forward out of the room. It was now obvious that Jim had orchestrated those events , and these as well and was being blatant about it. "Now, now Seb, I can practically feel the glare."

"An eye for a leg?" He couldn't help but say it out loud, because it was thrumming behind his mind

"Well, you were meant to keep me safe weren't you?" Jim said as if it was self-evident. "I was one of *your* men." He sighed theatrically as they were ushered up a corridor and a flight of stairs. "If you hadn't escaped I would have paid dear, dear John back as well."

"How?" He was half curious and knew why -- the doctor hadn't saved Jim's leg in time. Like it had even been possible.

"He carved me up," Jim said. "And expected me to be grateful for it. Were you grateful for what they did to you Seb? Hmm?" They entered what appeared to be some sort of information nerve center, sprung up in an old office space.

"Not particularly, no. Though you accidentally saved me from brain lesions," Sebastian pointed out mildly, trying to play for glib.

"I'm just a giver," Jim said. "Sit. Stay. Good Seb." He sat down himself and spun around on the chair. "I wonder how the Holmes are doing and what game we'll play with them and Watson tonight.”

"You've been playing games with them, then?" He was being attentive as he sat down, looking at the screens, trying to quickly read and process what was going on.

"Oh yes, " Jim grinned that crazy sly grin of his. "The Iceman doesn't like to play but Sherlock... oh, he just loves to snap at any bait. I haven't had so much fun in ages."

And John was with Sherlock, snapping right along. "What made you settle on playing with them?"

"I'm a genuine fucking genius Seb," he replied flicking on a couple of the screens. "Do you realize how completely dull most of the world is? How little challenge there is? I was a snot nosed kid when I started being able to out think everyone. I've had to...make my own entertainment for years. " Some footage came up, monitoring some anonymous looking place.

He quickly started to read it, to see if it was a place he could recognize, or if there were cues he could piece together. "And what entertainment will this be?"

"Mmm a good question. " Jim looked at him. "I've arranged for a somewhat obvious lead to pull John and Sherlock into an ambush. You like danger don't you Seb? I think your Johnny boy does too. I'm helping out your sex life...a bit of relationship spice."

It was a bit hard for there to be a sex life if he wasn't there to enjoy it, but Sebastian kept his mouth shut as he watched the screen rather than Jim's manic face. "Why me in the first place?"

"Seb, so little self worth? Tsk. Because you have all the qualities I need. Obedience, loyalty, intelligence and a dirty, dirty mind. Does your doctor know exactly all those dark things you get off on?" Jim said leaning in.

Sebastian didn't lean back, just kept his eyes on the screen. "I have a different sort of relationship with John."

"Oh but I bet you wish you didn't sometimes don't you?" Jim murmured in his ear. "What is it, a bit of roughness the risky depths? Was Germany the kinkiest thing he's ever done? How would he react if he'd seen what we'd done before?" There was a snick of cold steel around each of his wrists, locking him to the chair.

Didn't surprise him, but he felt his heart jump even as he strained to not react. "Not sure. Not really his thing, shit like that." He wasn't going to think about what he did get up to with John, wasn't going to taint those memories with whatever Jim was about to do.

"Seb, Seb, Seb, it's not healthy to deny your urges," Jim murmured moving on his blindside. John didn't do that...it had become second nature to him. There was a flicker of a blade in Jim's hand snapped open."

He turned his head, desperate to see, to do more than hear and imagine, and tipped his head to see where the blade had gone rather than just staring at the screen. "I've been doing just fine without them."

"I'm trying to think of him dominating you. I just can't see it." Jim was fiddling with Seb's belt, pulling it loose and reaching down his pants. "Although he takes it well. "

"Oh, Christ." He pulled hard at the handcuffs, looking away sharply as he tipped his head back. "You know what? He *does*. And he likes it."

"Likes what?"Jim prompted. "Surprise me. You want me to keep touching you, keep talking. You never could control your cock."

"And if I stop talking, then what?" He had to ask, needed to hear that the other side of it was the knife.

The knife point pricked at his nipple through his shirt. "Then I provide a little encouragement."

"Then I guess I'll keep talking." Sebastian tipped his head down, looking at the screen again as he tried to gather enough thoughts and enough of a head of steam to keep going. "John likes a good slow fuck."

Fingers replaced the tip of the knife, stroking over his chest and teasing at his nipples. "Go on."

"And a hard rough fuck, but I like to mix both and see how long I can keep him on edge, or if I can make him come more than once." He wasn't going to be able to talk that long without spilling everything.

"That's terribly vanilla of you," Jim said, the point of the knife nicking into skin at his throat. "I am very disappointed. Don't you ever make him scream? Or even better, make it so he can't and all you can hear is those desperate sweet muffled noises? Don't you like that? Your cock does."

He exhaled slowly, careful to not get his throat any closer to the knife. "No, I don't. I said, it's different."

"Boooooooring," Jim said in his ear, the metal of the blade cold across his throat. "Means you are scared for him to see who you really are and what you really want."

"It means he wants something different and it's not fucking all consuming that I can't hold back," Sebastian muttered.

"Bollocks. I bet he prays for you not to hold back," he replied. "But you are too worried about losing him." Jim scooped up a drop of blood on the knife edge and examined it and then let it drip onto Seb's lips. His free hand started fondling again.

Sebastian licked his bottom lip, tasting iron. "Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. I don't read minds."

"If he doesn't get killed maybe I'll keep him and train him for you," Jim said thoughtfully, leaning in to kiss him between thoughts. "I could get him begging for you to torture him. He'd pant for it. Like you did. If you're really good I'll flog you later... remember that Seb? You just kept coming and coming... Think of your John like that, muscles twitching, his skin glowing, tears and a cock so hard even when you whip it, it just gets harder..."

His dick was aching thinking about it, and Jim's fingers were deft on his skin. "Not John."

"He's a masochist. He hangs out willingly with Holmes," Jim answered as if that made the conclusion obvious. "A nice leather whip, with a thick handle. So versatile...as you know." He did know, he remembered. His shirt was open now and Jim paused to nibble at his nipples again.  
"Oh, Christ." He tipped his head back, trying to disassociate himself from the moment, except Jim, Jim was bloody good at sex, had been as Richard, no hiding that even if he'd been a squirrel about shit, and Christ, he was watching a trap on his screen.

"You'd be able to hear him around the gag in his mouth. Just a whimper when you push that inside of him. " Jim murmured against his skin. "He'd be too wrung out to do much more than twitch as it went in but he's hard, so hard..." The hand was in his pants and stroking. "He wants it, but it doesn't matter if he doesn't because it's already there."

"Stop, please, just..." He shifted, lifted his hips up for more, and John, John would look for gorgeous like that except it would involve talking first and planning and knowing John really wanted it was so much better to think about.

"You want to fuck him, but it's so good to see him stretched like that. It feels good to be stretched so wide and you know he can take it because he can take two at once can't he?" Jim rubbed against him nibbling his lower lip. "Tight as virgin but can take two without screaming." The fingers were doing something deft and there was the feeling of constriction as something settled around the base of his erection. "Don't want you coming too soon. Not before the entertainment."

He inhaled hard, tried to get himself to relax as he looked down to see the cock ring shoved down around the base of his dick, caught up in hair. "So you want me for loyalty and sex, then..."

"And your genius for killing. You do it so well. All those black ops..rather impressive." Jim was being a goddamn tease.

He wanted him angry on edge and he was going to get him angry and on edge, no question. Jim was a master of that, and his dick was hard despite it, despite the fear and the anger. "Shame I can't seem to get free..."

"There would be no fun in that would there?" Jim said fondling him again. There was a flicker of movement on the screens in front of him. "Aha, good. Now we can play. " Jim grinned at him. "It's a simple game really. The more peril dear John is in, the more I jack you off. But you won't get to come unless he bleeds for you Seb."

Sebastian wasn't a small child, and he could fucking survive without coming, just fine, as long as John *lived.* "Fine."

The wicked smirk on Jim's face made it clear that sitting back and thinking of England wasn't going to cut it this time. His hand grip him expertly, starting a slow tease as he used his free hand to control the remote images. "Ah there he is...with Sherlock as well. Sherlock really should know better. He's going to kick himself when he figures out the implicit clues. Look at that... so worried and determined all for you Seb. Shame you argued before you went off on this latest jaunt."

He clenched his jaw tightly for a moment, trying to not move. "How do you know that?"

Jim chuckled, "Stalky stalk stalk. I know where you live. You might sweep for bugs but there is gear to listen from outside you know." His hand was relentless

"We argued," Seb shrugged, and fuck, he couldn't even remember what the argument was about because it hadn’t mattered, had it? Except this fucker had listened.

On the screen, John seemed to be trying to reason with an impatient Sherlock. "And yet he's still flinging himself blindly into things for you. I wonder how much he would go through for you?" Jim's voice turned speculative as he slowly twisted his hand a little in just the right way as he lazily stepped up the hand-job.

He lifted his hips, couldn't help himself, head leaned back against the edge of the chair. "Fuck. Let's not, not test it."

"But Seb it would be fun!" Jim almost whined as if they were doing something consensual and kinky, rather than this being tantamount to rape and kidnapping. "Oh, oh... look, watch this bit. I knew Sherlock would try rushing on ahead."

Into what had looked like an empty room that now exploded with flash bangs and movement, people from off camera coming into the view.  
This appeared to be a cue for Jim to up the intensity of his strokes as it turned into an action scene. He could see the whirling moves of Holmes and that coat of his, and then John running, rolling and taking cover, his dark eyes doing the quick darting 360 checks and every movement telegraphing a soldiers history. Damn it was hot even without the forced stimulus. He always found John's competence a big turn on.  
Disarming demeanor but able to turn on pure military bearing like a light switch when it suited him and there he was, and maybe it was sick but he'd missed seeing him in his time on the run and they were doing okay in the unexpected skirmish.  
He was practically squirming by the end of the firefight, when John and Sherlock emerged victorious. John had his firm exasperated look at Sherlock who seemed to be disregarding whatever he was saying to search the area.  
Jim's maddening hand job slowed up dramatically. "Aw look, he's not scratched. You'll have to be patient Seb. No orgasm for you yet."

"Uhn, fuck." He could hold back. He would hold back, easily, he was keeping his eyes trained on the silent stream above them when Sherlock seemed to notice the camera.

He said something to John whose eyes tracked around and for a brief moment seemed to be looking directly at him. He could read the way he said "Seb..." as clearly as if he could hear it and he hesitated as Sherlock headed off lingering, looking as if he could find an answer there before he disappeared out of shot.

"Oh that's just so touching..." Jim said. "I'm surprised there wasn't a single perfect tear in his eye."

He it back the urge to snap "shut it", but tipped his head down instead because there was nothing to see now, and maybe they were closer on the trail than he'd expected them to be by then.

"Perhaps I'll get your sole survivor comrade out there as a red herring. He might get close enough. I seem to remember it was saving him that meant Watson was with you," Jim mused. His fingers were idly moving. "I'd like to take him alive I think. He's a sweet fuck isn't he? We could have lots of fun with him Seb."  
No, no. No, that was no lots of fun and if he hadn't been able to orchestrate an escape with Paul, one with John, again, would be just as dicey to risk. "He's not like that. He..." His balls ached, his muscles ached, and he wanted to fucking move.

"Oh!" Jim grinned. "Let's send him a selfie! He'll love that. You'll love that. You always said you hated humiliation but you came like a fucking train anyway when we did it." He started reaching for his phone. "Pose for the shot Seb, make it sexy."

"No, no, I'm not playing along with your sick shit, I'm not..." He twisted, trying to look away from whatever Jim was going to do.

He caught the flicker of a flash, a tighter grip around his cock, Jim making an amused noise. "Oh that looks like you are desperate to come, arching back like that. That’s a keeper." There was the ding of a sent message. "I think I'll keep him up dated as I do things to you as he goes through various trials and tribulations. He might get over excited."

He was going to get over excited the moment he received it, but Sebastian knew that no text would be such an easy give away as that, even if he wanted it to be a stupid messy mistake.

Jim could play him like a finely tuned instrument, never mind that he was no such thing, Jim could play him, and he slipped, went into himself because actively fighting it was too hard, being present for what was going on was too hard when he was that turned on and responsive.  
He began to lose track of time as Jim upped his game the next time John and Sherlock came into shot. He started getting more creative, shifting him about some, adding things, inserting things. He'd take pictures and send them, giving a smirk as he tweaked hard on clamps or played with a knife, or his gun dangerously near vulnerable parts. And each time things got rough for John and Sherlock, and the more peril they were in, the more intense the experience became. Jim was too damn good at this.  
He was going to get over excited the moment he received it, but Sebastian knew that no text would be such an easy give away as that, even if he wanted it to e a stupid messy mistake.

He didn't know what would happen if the other survivor, the fucking planted RTO, survived the encounter, or didn't win, but he wanted him to lose, would take a night of torture over John being hurt, and why had they gone there without better armaments? Why hadn't they turned back?

That laugh was there. "Watch, watch...let's see how our other lone survivor does. If he gets nowhere in his attack, I might just leave you here tonight all strapped and plugged up and nowhere to go. But if we get a little blood, I'll let you get your ass in the air and fuck you hard."

He could see the meeting on the screen, everything hanging on the interaction. John coming out of his cover position of the moment looking weary and tired when he recognized the man. Sherlock pushing forward as usual, and he was locked onto them desperate.

"Just..." Please, please, he wanted to beg but he wasn't going to he wasn't, he just pulled at his straps and felt everything in him and clamping and holding him, felt the pull of his balls when Jim reached down and squeezed. "Please."

"Do you want it?" Jim murmured in his ear. "You know the only way John is seeing you tonight is if we catch him and Sherlock. They are doing quite well though although I nearly got them with that little booby trap in the pool. You know, his response to your pictures are really quite aggressive. Shocking language really. This will be the last attempt tonight I think. Let's see if you get blueballs, or I get to fuck you until you come. You'd enjoy that...the slick burn, unable to stop it."

It had a purpose and an end goal, but he was at his wit's end his arse was stuffed with some fucking toy, his nipples ached, his balls ached, everything was just there on the precipice.

It was like the 'games' they played, before John, before all of that. Dangerous, dark games full of sharp painful need and Jim's twisted imagination that had him broken like a hollow reed and panting for it. Each time though, Jim was forcing him to watch John's peril and equate it with excitement. Stray thoughts of needing to see John bleed just ...just a little so he could come were half forming already and he *knew* it was a mind fuck.

He saw the moment it went sour on them. The moment where there was a flash of knife at Holmes, and John did something in a move he remembered. 

"Oh...oh..." Jim leaned forward. "Oh there we go! He marked him... Oh you lucky bastard." His hand sped up on his cock, and then he stepped back pulled out the plug in Seb’s ass and then without any pause thrust into him as if the world would come to an end if he didn’t fuck him into oblivion instantly. It was rough and fiery, vicious and something dark and glittering like his eyes.

There was no pause until he was driven to orgasm violently, like he had been pushed over a cliff. Jim just didn’t stop - there he went with that fucking crazy manic climax Jim had, letting it all go at once. "Oh that is...fucking brilliant," Jim said in a dreamy sated tone, pulling out sharply. "Missed that...missed this."

Missed fucking someone far above his rank, or below it now that neither one of them had ranks, fucking *with*, not just fucking, Christ, and that feeling of dawning horror settled over his bones again.

"Oh and it looks like dear John managed to make it out alive," Jim said looking at the screen. "No body parts lying around. A good sign."  
He hadn't even looked up once the fucking had started, had forgotten that John might've been dying up there, and the knot in his stomach tightened as he tried to move with some semblance of dignity.

"Well, back we go to your cell," he said sounding chipper. "And I might even give you something to eat and your buddy as you've been so good. I'll set up something for tomorrow I think.."

And tomorrow and tomorrow. Sebastian struggled to stand up, muscles aching and every joint in his body wrung dry and tight and sore as he stood. "And this is just... part of whatever we stumbled into."

"Mmm, exhilarating isn't it?" Jim asked his eyes bright. "It's been so long since there's been anyone to play with who can really play. Mr. Iceman refuses to play properly but Sherlock."

Sherlock snapped eagerly at whatever bait had led him to a building full of cameras and danger. There was no time to let things linger, to see what the grand plan was Sebastian knew that if he and Paul didn't get out soon, there was no getting out. "Is putty in your hands. Is that a challenge, then?"

"Oh I've left some hints for him tonight," he said and gesture to him with his gun. "Pull your pants up. Let's go."

As if it wouldn't be obvious what had happened, but he obliged, and tried to pull together what was left of his shirt. "Lead on."

Surprisingly he was taken back to the room where Paul was and manacled back to the wall. Paul was glaring at Jim viciously and was still alive which was something he had half worried about.  
There was no way they could scheme together, no way he could trust that they weren't being monitored as closely as John had been. And under those circumstances, how did one plan and execute an escape?

"Ta ta Sebby, you were magnificent as ever," Jim said even as a tray of food and drink was put down for them both. " Sorry Gregson, no fun for you tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

The best he could manage was a non-committal noise, trying to not look at Jim while he shut the door behind himself. "Thought you'd be dead."

"He kills me, how will he control you?" Paul said looking him over. "What did he do? Are you okay?"

He leaned forward to carefully snag the tray of food to pull it over to them. "I'm fine. He's got Sherlock and John on a hook, playing his games."

Paul knew something more had gone on, he could see it in how he looked at him. "This is all about a game to him?" he asked. "Bloody bastard...it's got to be more complex than that.

"Plans and games, he's got an end goal but I don't know what it is." Sebastian didn't look at Paul, but started to scan the room, looking.

"Mm. Don't appear to be monitored in here. I tested it out." Paul murmured. "No one picked up on it and they really should have done."

"Or is that what he wants us to think?" Sebastian reached for and broke a piece of bread with care for them both. "He set John and I up."

"Yeah? How?" Paul asked taking the bread and sniffing it cautiously before taking a bite. 

"My eye. John's chest. The raid." All those dead soldiers, and he knew, too that Jim was behind the bombings, too, their inside man who told the insurgents when to strike and when to hang back and let them think they were winning.

Paul paused at that. "Okay, that's a long range plan we've got here. This puts a different spin on things."

"My soldiers. The IEDs." Sebastian leaned his shoulders back against the wall, and kept himself focused as he chewed. "Infiltrated my unit to rip it apart from the inside."

"Did he give you any indication why?" Paul asked, still shooting him appraising glances. It was probably pretty obvious what he had been doing.

He nudged at the plate for Paul, goading rather than acknowledging. "I think he was grooming me."

"And destroying the unit?" Paul asked taking another piece. "How was that going to get you on his side?"

"Take my foundation out from under me." Sebastian chewed with care, not looking at Paul once he saw he was eating. "I'm not a good person, but I have loyalties. If I'd... The police chief, if I'd actually beaten the brains out of him, and John hadn't stopped me, which was what the bombs all set me up to do..." He would've been set out into the woods by his own military for crossing a line that he felt justified in crossing to protect his people.

"You would have been out there, psychologically ripe for the plucking and that loyalty transference.." Paul shook his head. "Clever little bastard."

"And if you knew I'd worked for Holmes before, that I could be an operator, who else knew? The community is small and quiet, but not small and quiet enough." Sebastian had a firmer footing, now, even if he could be played, and all the pieces rolled open for him like that was horrifying.

"You think he still has that agenda?" Paul asked, still studying him.

"Seems like it,"Seb acknowledged.

"Hmm." Paul was thinking. "One thing I know is that that will not have been the point of the matter. A point, but the attack had to have had some positive result for those he connected with. Arms shipments? Seem a bit crude and obvious. What was in that base where you were? You escaping wasn't part of the plan...it was a bloody miracle you made it out. So what was the original plan? " He fell silent a moment. "What do you remember of the base?"

"It was well equipped.Position to tribes. It was a trade route that went through us and we had the mountain pass.A natural bottleneck that they could exploit." Arms, smuggling, smuggling things no one wanted other nations to have.

"Oh bloody hell," Paul thunked his head against the wall behind him. "Bloody fucking hell. He knew about Wedgwood. They've got a re-established route into that area... a side shoot that we have been missing. They cleared a route to *move* something. Something big enough to warrant wiping out a whole unit."

"And to have as much fun as possible while doing it," Seb muttered. He wasn't going to ask for secrets, details and he could do his reading later.

"Yes. One of those might as well things. It'd fuck with John, and Sherlock in turn." And Jim, Jim could play him so well. "Fucker didn't count on losing a leg in it."

"Combat doesn’t give a shit if you are a genius if or an idiot if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time. " He grimaced. "Your eye for as payment for his foot?"

"And the medcap team I was travelling with. The rto, he was a plant." Or turned, and Seb didn't care either way as the end result was the same. He hoped that Paul might see more than Seb did with the story.

"I really need to get this information back to Mycroft. Especially with the lead we have just been following," Paul muttered under his breath. "Any ideas yet?"

"Just one." He twisted his hand carefully, where he'd kept the metal shard pressed between palm and pinky finger, and revealed it.

And was rewarded with an appreciative grin spreading over Paul's face.

* * *

John wanted to bloody well punch something. Hard. All night it had been attack, ambush, chase, explosions. Sherlock was high as a kite on the adrenaline and he... he was tired, angry and his arm was probably going to need stitches or something. Ruined his coat...he liked that coat. And all that for nothing. A wild goose chase.  
A dead end, the dead end to beat all dead ends because it had nearly bloody well killed them and he didn't have the space to cope with what was going on. He needed a rest that wasn't coming, and they had no more news or knowledge than they'd had before. And to top it off, Sherlock had stolen his phone again out of laziness.

They'd been fighting for their goddamn lives and Sherlock had been bloody texting! The man was crazy and idiotic. Fuck. "So have we learned anything?" he asked again, stuffing his scarf around his arm. It wasn't a deep slice but it hurt.

Stupid, aching hurt, and he wanted to snatch his phone back the next time he saw it in Sherlock's hand. "A great deal," Sherlock murmured.

"Sherlock...what are you doing?" John hissed in a low tone. "It's going to be a trap."

He knew as soon as he said it that Sherlock would start toward the door, though he moved with a wary care, that made John move with the same care as they got closer.

"No second floor I can see here," John said. "There's a door over there but I think that's what we are meant to do."

He couldn't undo what had happened, but he could get him back and that was the outcome to reach for. "Bricks are different," Sherlock murmured, flicking through them. "Looks like a second floor, gypsum concrete composite floor..."

He handed it back a little sheepishly and tried to refocus. So, they were meant to chase their tails looking here. The pictures were to insult him, to wind him into a frenzy and set him wasting time. John tried to use the calm he used to get doing surgery to get control of the situation. He just wanted Seb back.  
He held his hand back out for the phone, which is probably what John had interrupted with his sudden spike of anger.

"But this has to be a trap," he said. "Wait, as we were meant to rush in but if we are in somewhere that looks like the place, we must be close to the place. Come on Sherlock, do that deducting thing. Look at the pictures, look at... I don't know, light, or paint, or moss on the goddamn walls showing which way is north."

"We search for more evidence." Despite that it was a trap, it had been a trap all along hadn't it?

"When I open the door, duck low," Sherlock instructed, slipping up to the side of the door to shove it open.

"Sherlock!" He barely had time to fling himself to the ground because Sherlock didn't wait to give him chance to absorb what he had just said. "Jesus Sherlock!"

The explosion that followed was raw and sharp, and he tipped his head down, felt the heat and the roar of noise, the splatter of warm liquid against his skin.  
The stink of blood and explosive took him into a flash back especially as a body part landed right next to him in that surreal way of violent death that had become common in Afghanistan. His ears were ringing as they stood up and he was momentarily horrified at the thought it might have been Seb, or Paul but soon realized it was not.

"Anything through there or a...dead end?" John asked trying to clear the ringing in his ears.

"Oh, very dead end. Completely dead." Sherlock pulled a face as he kept looking, not moving any closer, just scanning, thinking, probably.

"Not Seb," he said with relief and then added a little guiltily, "...or Paul."

"I believe it was your RTO. So there must be another henchman, or the doors are, yes, the doors are remote triggered, so I suspect it's time to leave now before someone flips another switch on this place..."

"Okay, moving," John did so rapidly, knowing all too well the way of triggering a trap and then following up with a secondary. "Where are we going?"

"Out. Out and then I need to think of where we are going next, there's something about the place..." But he was leading, leaving John and John was happy to follow him out just then.

They ended up half running for the door in the end, out into the back alley, too paranoid to back off. "So... similar style building. Got be close," John managed."

"Multi story," Sherlock countered. "Larger brick pattern, built cheaply so same materials inside and out."  
John looked around him. "The camera feed, if it was wireless there had to be a fairly close proximity? Or something with decent reception." There were couple of multi-story buildings in the pretty immediate area.

"There we go, now I know you're alert." Very close by, so he turned and caught side of one with a slightly wider brick pattern, three story, and started to move toward it at the same time Sherlock did. 

Seb was in there, and he had enough bullets to kill Jim if he could. "See any entrances?" he said looking around. 

"Anything is an entrance if you're creative enough. I suspect our man is very creative..." He approached the side of the building, looking up, checking the walls intently.

He tried to remember his combat training. "Mm. The roof?" he suggested discarding the obvious entrances.  
"If you see handholds, or a rope, perhaps, or..." A rickety shitty looking metal ladder for roof access, which seemed the most obvious and most usable idea, even if it wasn't as creative as Sherlock might've wanted. Moving bricks for handholds maybe, but that would draw suspicion, someone climbing a sheer building side. A building in need of roof work, now, that was another story.

"Okay then," John said and checked it out. "This'll work. Come on." He headed up it grimacing as the cut tugged on his arm.

So, he had to be careful, look for traps as they ascended. Wires, contact trips, even the basic oil for slipping. They made it to the top, and John had his gun out as he cautiously made his way to a door. He let Sherlock take a look at it in case his cursory glance had missed something.

Sherlock on his six, not the worst person he'd ever had watching his back, and that was part of why working with Sherlock was so easy. Even if he was currently bleeding a little... He got about 4 feet up, and then Sherlock got on the ladder, and it didn't jar. So the thing had been reinforced for frequent use.

"Okay then," John said and checked it out. "This'll work. Come on." He headed up it grimacing as the cut tugged on his arm.

* * *

It wasn't the best of plans, Seb was willing to admit, but it was sort of their only plan and Paul swore he was fine with standing there holding the door steady with a fucking *bomb* on his ankle while Sebastian tap tap tapped the pins out of the door hinges as quietly as he could manage. He got the bottom one off first, and was already working on the top. There was no question that they needed to get out and soon, it was just a matter of where were they going to go?  
"Moriarty's likely to be the only one with the control on this," Paul said. "And I think he’s pissed off for the evening."

"Let's hope he doesn't piss back in before we get away." Seb slowly eased the second pin up and pocketed it. "Count of three."

"One, two...three," Paul heaved and the door shifted off of heavy hinges. He was braced to not let it drop and make noise as Seb helped him control it.

They leaned it carefully against the wall, working in wordless tandem before Seb stepped outside to take point.  
They had to be careful, had to see if they could find something to get the damn thing off of his foot before somebody got word back to Jim. Paul gestured in the signals that had come second nature to them both for them to move out and they were after weapons and not allowing anyone to get a message out. Anyone who spotted them had to be killed it was that simple, and Sebastian had no qualms about that given the hell they'd already been through just trying to get to London before they were swept up. The place was lightly staffed, it seemed, and he kept his ears open as they moved with slow care.

For all their rough treatment, Paul move with the fluid grace of a predator. Their first encounter wasn't even a contest. The first was down in seconds and Seb got the second who was just starting to look around as he took him down.  
Crushed his head smoothly against the wall and didn't pause, just kept walking, determined that they weren't going to be the next to die. He took the lead again, grateful that Paul was maybe a little sharper, a little more focused, quicker to the punch, still.  
He'd at least grabbed guns behind him, passed one to him, though silence was the preference. They found the end of the corridor, and Paul grimaced as he listened to the noises on the other side. It startled them both to hear a gunshot. "Shit, I need to get this off my leg... go on Seb, if it blows, you don't need to be near it."  
"Hold your leg out funny," Seb countered, lingering as he fingered the trigger. Why a shot, who was shooting? Infighting?

"One funny leg being held out," Paul quipped. "Trigger mechanism is here I think. Try not to hit the explosive here." He gestured. He had managed to study it while Seb had been with Seb, they had just had no means to remove it.

This, this was how he was going to try to take it off, the hard way. He lowered his pistol, and took a careful shot at it, because fuck. That was close enough.

The sound of the shot was loud but no explosions. "Fuck," Paul said as he pulled the damn thing off. "Should've brushed up more on the depth perception," he teased slightly. "Creased my bloody foot. " But it was off, it was done and that was a relief.

"At least you have a foot to crease," Seb pointed out in a whisper, turning back toward the hallway they were in and the sounds on the other side.

It sounded like there was some sort of fire fight going on, or conflict rather than bellowing arguments. "Well 'Last', sounds like we have back up," Paul murmured. "You right, I'll go left. "  
He inclined his head sharply, and moved quick, keeping an eye on Paul as he jogged down the corridor. He had one less bullet than Paul, but that didn't quite put him down in capability.

Another set of guards, swiftly dispatched and they were close to the epicenter of noise. Paul opened the door carefully, obviously reason that they might have chance to flank enemies if they were occupied. He gestured to him to go and he could hear John shouting.  
John. *John* shouting, that strident edge when he got worked up that was somewhere between a bark and a demand, and he didn't want to distract him but they needed to coordinate if it was *John*.

They slipped inside what looked like a rundown factory floor of some type. Paul unerringly spotted cover and darted into it, so they could get their bearings. John was occupying what looked to be three guards, while Sherlock could be seen moving around in a flanking maneuver.  
Sebastian leaned up, moving with care to expose as little as possible, and shot a guard in the back of the head. The two of them moved smoothly, making use of the distraction to kick ass. He ended up gun to gun with John who whirled, picking up his movement in his peripheral vision. There was a brief moment as John focused. "Seb!?"

"Didn't expect to see you here. What way's out?" He glanced to Sherlock, glanced to Paul, cataloging the room now that it was clear -- for the moment.

"We came in via the roof," John said obviously desperate to say something more to him but keeping it professional and immediate. "The way is clear."  
Sherlock swept around looking overly dramatic in his opinion. "Yes well, as you have managed to free yourselves from manacles, using a small bit of metal from the looks of it”

"Yeah, have you met Gregson? Paul Gregson, Sherlock Holmes, Holmes, Paul, let's exfiltrate." He moved in close, touched John’s shoulder, and wanted to linger, couldn't.  
John looked at him and gripped him arm back. "Are you okay?" he asked under his breath even as they started moving.

"Are you finished with the maudlin reunion?" Sherlock said with disdain.

“Yeah whatever Holmes," Paul said. "Move. Moriarty will have left a sting in the tail for this place."  
He was reluctant to call it a maudlin reunion, but it was good, no, it was a fucking rush to see John and they weren't in a safe place at all. "After all the shots, someone'll be coming. Back, turn around." Nothing to do but to get going, to move faster, to get *out*, all four of them.  
It seemed to break John out of his zone. "This way," he said heading off, his limp not slowing him down at all.

No limp at all, and Sebastian tailed after, trying to keep himself focused. Getting out of a place when safety felt at hand was when everything went fucking wrong, and it was a little surreal that John was there.

"We've got hostiles," Paul said from the back of their group as a shout echoed. "Pick up the pace..."

He didn't touch John, not quite, but he did want to, and John, competent soldier that he was, picked up the pace on their single file, twisting through dark corridors -- always made him wonder if bad guys couldn't be fucked to pay the electric bills -- and heading into what felt like a maintenance area.

There was the sound of a shout and someone firing at them and they were moving like lightning then, Sherlock sprinting like a cheetah, John powering on with a more endurance based gait, and Paul ignoring his injured foot as they made it to stairwell and they swarmed up it right to the roof.  
"Here," John said briefly gesturing towards a maintenance ladder they had obviously been using, and jogged towards it.

"Wait!" Paul ordered sharply in a tone of command that any soldier instinctively obeyed.

"It's clear," Sherlock said. "We came up it." 

"Yeah, used that tactic before. I call it 'Fish in a fucking barrel, " Paul cautioned. "Last, check from the perimeter. Watson, stop making yourself a target. Hold cover."

Well, they were on a bloody roof, but Seb wrapped caution up with his frustration, and scanned the buildings nearby. "No rope handy I don't suppose."

"If he has booby trapped it, he would logically place any trip mechanism at a point where all people would be on the ladder," Sherlock drawled. "It would have had to have been applied rapidly, so it is likely to be sloppy. Theoretically the best way to catch a ladder full of people is electricity."  
So, an open wire, or, and that mean looking down the length of it and putting himself entirely *out* of cover, but Sebastian moved to do it, hoping that Jim's obsession with him might give him more of a chance.

"I'll cover you," John said at the same time as Paul. They exchanged a glance. 

"We'll both take it, " Paul temporized. "I'll watch for snipers, Watson, you watch for close quarters."

"And I'll just find this emergency fire ladder," Sherlock said smirking with that ridiculous look self-satisfaction that normally irritated Seb. “Oh look here it is.” The bastard was being condescending about it as if he was laughing at them all.

In that moment, it was a blessing, so let him be as smug as he wanted. "Right, hooks on, let's go then." Take the time to gloat away from the man, if nothing else.

Paul remained covering them as they put the ladder in place. "Right, let’s go," he said. 

"You go down before me," Seb insisted, as Sherlock started out on point. He couldn't have chosen better himself.  
"You need someone to cover you," Paul said "And my ankle slows me up."

"Look are we going or not?" John said. "They’ll be up through that door any moment. Seb, please just... start climbing."

"I'm least likely to be killed here, so bloody well go *now*," Seb snapped, and started herding them forward so he could get on the ladder as well.  
Suddenly it went from being a cautious descent to all out haste as the sound of the door opening to the roof spurred them on. Seb managed to take out the first of them sticking their head over the roof edge as they descended.

"Go, go, go!" Paul ordered. "Looks like Mycroft keeps tabs on his brother. Reinforcements incoming."  
Squad cars wailing and that was a miracle because now it was scatter and leave no trace, fuck the loose ends who got away. Or maybe blow them, and Seb moved as fast as he dared, not stepping on Paul's hands as he went.

He was mildly distracted by someone trying the fixed maintenance ladder they had avoided to get a better angle to shoot them, and there being a snapping electric sound and watching the man fall.

"Told you!" drifted up from Sherlock who had made it to ground level before them.  
Then he head John touch cement, then Paul, then then they might make it and Seb hurried down the last few rungs before hopping off of it. "Gloat when we're in a safe place."

"That would be with me," came a cultured voice. "Do stop dawdling Sherlock. And grandstanding, it's very vulgar."

"Brother dearest," Sherlock replied. "Got off your fat ass to get here then?"  
"Don't be crude Sherlock. Gregson, Moran, this way before the police get here. I can get you to medical facilities." Mycroft gestured to the car.  
Seb turned, looking for and sighting John before he'd make a move to safety, because John, he, he needed him just then. Their cluster moved toward the waiting car, a quick hurry into luxury.

"You too Dr. Watson, Sherlock...unless you want to explain yourselves personally to the police," Mycroft said. 

"I'm going with Seb," John said, grabbing his arm and getting in with him. He was holding on as if he never wanted to let go.

It was easy, once Sherlock was in and Mycroft as well, to stretch and slide his arm over John's shoulders, because, fuck. His head was all in the wrong place and he was safe but clearly things weren't over because Richard knew too much and was targeting them.

The door closed and they were away, thank god and somehow they were in the clear. "Seb..." John was looking at him like he didn't know what to say. They really were pretty shit at dealing with anything really intense. He cleared his throat. "Are you...injured?"

And it didn't help that they had an audience of two Holmes and one very keen operator and he needed to seem at the top of his game. "Roughed up."

John nodded a little and he could almost see him switch into doctor mode. "Right. Any specific injuries?"

"He shot me in the ankle," Paul chipped in and John had obviously almost forgotten he was there.

"I did. There was a bomb strapped to it, though, so you can give me a little credit," Sebastian countered, dropping his fingers to rub John's shoulder. "Let's talk about it when we get somewhere quieter."

"Okay," John said looking tired and relieved. There was blood on his sleeve as well. "I'm just glad we found you."

From the bloodletting where he'd finally gotten off and then Jim had fucked him so hard he'd nearly had stars in his eyes. "Made the getting out quicker. I watched... all of it. The fucking RTO."  
He saw John nod, and then deliberately not say anything just then. Later they would talk about it more than likely but for now John just remained holding him as if he might disappear.  
It wasn't going to disappear, and it wasn't something they could go home to talk about, but for the moment, he was going to just close his eyes and hold on.

* * *

It was frustrating to have to wait for the doctors to look over Moran and Gregson before he could debrief them. It was very irritating, especially as Sherlock was being very vocal and annoying just to make his presence felt. "Sherlock, do shut up," Mycroft said irritated at his brothers behavior.

"You set all of this in motion," Sherlock was gloating, pacing while John sat and wasted energy looking worried.  
"Evidently," Mycroft said. "I do not need you stating the obvious all the time. It is tedious and childish. I need to debrief my agents then you can all go home."

"Where your very interesting target will show up and take four people instead of two?" Sherlock posited, and it was annoyingly obvious that he was putting on a show for John.

Honestly for someone who protested he wasn't interested in sex, he displayed like a peacock for Dr Watson. "I sincerely doubt it. He would prefer something more convoluted."

"Bombing. Sniping. Snipe a one eyed sniper," Sherlock mused, and Mycroft heard Dr. Watson groan softly, And then the doors opened, and finally, he could get on with the important thing, the information that he was sure would fill in a missing spot or two.

Gregson entered, the marks of his captivity easy enough to see. Mycroft catalogued them, making a note to query them more thoroughly when he was alone with Paul and then those of his protégé, Moran. More complex... a different involvement. Moriarty had focused on him apparently. "Please, gentleman, sit and report."

Their postures were similar, a calm, false relaxed arrogance that made Mycroft think of men who were trying too hard. Moran scanned the room, looked at Watson, and looked back to Mycroft. "Richard Brook, Jim Moriarty, one of which is an alias, knows about Wedgwood."

He couldn't stop the widening of his eyes. Bloody hell. Bloody damn and blast the man. Almost instantly, a pattern of events snapped into pure clarity that had eluded him until now. "That is most... unfortunate." He said.

"Wedgwood? Another of your ridiculous operation codenames?" Sherlock said.

"Something you don't need to know about," Paul said. "This is a long running plan. Seb and Watson were entertainment for him and served a dual purpose."

"Of course," Mycroft said. "Deliberate infiltration with a view to a temporary cessation of occupation.A squad taken out of the equation." The company had been drawn back, broken with the loss of key personnel, the squad wiped out.

"More than a squad," Sebastian corrected. "But. Many birds, one stone. He didn't calculate getting his leg blown off.

"He evidently believes himself infallible." Mycroft mused. 

"What you are saying that Richard, Jim set up the ambush for a reason aside from getting hold of Seb?" John asked interrupting.

"That should be obvious." Mycroft said still thinking hard, running through scenarios. "Though his fixation on Sebastian and yourself Dr Watson has proven a catalyst of sorts. A mistake he most likely won't admit he has made."  
No, He wouldn't admit it, but the perfect crime would have been to stay under the radar, let the transport of whatever take place without even letting them know of his existence.  
And he'd intervened. Repeatedly, apparently, given Sebastian's warnings from the start that Moriarty was stalking him and the doctor. "Not sure what else we can provide that hasn't already been said." Or surmised by that key succinct phrase.

"I need to know more about Moriarty himself," Mycroft said. "His motivations and interactions. Sherlock and Dr Watson have given me information on their night’s activities. I would like any details at all regarding your incarceration."

"Well we led them a goddamn good chase over Europe. They didn't corner us until we made it to London." Paul said.

"Moved to a cell, and given a big reveal that it was Moriarty and there was a bomb around Paul's ankle, as guarantee that I would play nice." Sebastian didn't move as he talked, and in previous encounters with the man he was quite an active talker. "He wanted me working for him, said that he saw my potential, and explained the fucking rto's survival... And I realized he'd been behind it all. Then he tortured me while I watched a live feed of John and Sherlock going through his hoops."

"What was his intention with this torture?" Mycroft asked studying Sebastian’s micro-expressions. He had concealed something in that report. Paul had noticed it too from the momentary flick of his expression and Dr Watson had paled noticeably.

"Creating a sense of guilt so I'd bond with him," Sebastian said quite crisply.

"I see." He did see, all too well. "So you believe he genuinely wishes to recruit you?"

Paul frowned at him, always quick on the uptake. "No Mycroft," he said in a calm measured tone. "That won't work. Not after this."

"No. No, he's not an idiot, he'd know you sent me back in," Sebastian said quickly, leaning forward as he said it.

"He makes errors in judgement with regard to you," he said, contemplating.

"Don't be ridiculous Mycroft," Sherlock drawled. "Moriarty would be bored by the same approach again."

"He'd only accept it to play with me again," Sebastian agreed, "and he'd be sure to not let you gain anything from a second encounter."

"Mm, I will give it some thought." Mycroft acknowledged. "How did you escape?"

"Knocked the hinge pins out of the door after I picked the cuffs with a bit of scrap I found on the floor in the interrogation room." On his hands and knees, no doubt, and very close indeed to the floor, with escape on his mind.  
Indeed. It was completely obvious he had been raped. There were probably psychological concerns. "Anything else pertinent to report?"

"No. I'll diagram the building out, and the details of the hunt for a report for you," Sebastian offered. "But the most outstanding was what Paul said, about the original target Moriarty had."

"Then I will receive a full report from you in due course." Mycroft looked at them. "I believe it is time for you to return to Baker Street. I have taken the liberty of ensuring the locations are secure."

"And Gregson?" Seb looked to his partner in missions. "Better a secured location where we're consolidated..." And more of a target, so he trailed off, but yes, in some ways there were benefits.

"Obviously I have accommodation available, unless he has a different offer?" Mycroft said mildly. He really had to action everything rapidly.

"Stay with us for a couple of days." He couldn't volunteer Sherlock’s space, but Mycroft half suspected he would've if he would have. "It'll speed the report, less transit where we could be snapped up again."

Gregson appeared to be considering that offer. "It might be useful to have someone extra on guard." He said cautiously. It was a good point. Paul was one of his best and the next logical target was likely to be John Watson either on his own merits or as leverage on Sherlock or Sebastian. "Then that is settled. "

And less resources to deal with having to spread out to ensure that Moriarty kept his eye on as many distracting balls in the air as possible while keeping those same balls safe.

* * *

John was already despairing before they reached Baker Street at the point where Paul was invited to stay. But Seb wanted it, needed Paul close and he couldn't stop that. But now they were back in the flat, instead of being able to lavish comfort and support on Seb like he wanted to, he was forced to play good host. Fetching blankets, pillows, duvet for the couch, making tea, ordering half a tonne of food.

And inexplicably Sherlock was still here too.

Seb wasn't the best person at unwinding and he and John had their rituals, which weren't something they were able to do with company. Seb was loitering in the kitchen, very focused on making tea.

"Sherlock, why are you still here?" He asked opting for the blunt approach. He was tired, his arm hurt and Sherlock had already intercepted the food when it arrived to double check it all. Paul had hit the shower immediately and was parading around without shame looking...ridiculously hot even liberally covered in scrapes and bruises and a bandaged foot.  
And that had been the original argument between him and Seb, hadn't it? That Paul was gorgeous and Sebastian spent his working hours shoulder to shoulder with another gorgeous human being, and John was possibly a little jealous because Sebastian clearly admired the other man. And now Seb was leaning on the kitchen counter. "Assuring myself that this place is secure before I leave the three of you."

"Mycroft said it was," John replied. "Seb, have you had anything to eat yet?" He wasn't sure if Seb wanted to shower first or eat first. Either way, he wanted to be worrying about him. And Paul needed to put something else on, for gods sake, as it looked the towel was usually optional. He grabbed the old t-shirt and jogging bottoms of Seb's and tossed them at Paul. His other stuff was in the laundry.

"Not yet. Thinking about sleeping." The kettle started to whistle, and he heard Sebastian grabbing mugs, pulling drawers open. "Paul when was the last time we slept?"

"Do you count the brief periods of unconsciousness?" Paul quipped back. "You should eat. You won't get the benefit of sleep otherwise."

John tried not to be jealous - he'd been about to say that. Wanted to show he cared by saying that sort of thing. Instead he got the plates out. "Help yourself then. I'm pretty in need of sleep myself."

Sherlock was watching them all, while Seb passed John a mug of tea after he got the plates out. "I'm just going to uh, just grab some and head off to bed, then."

John nodded. "I'll join you. Have a quick shower? You'll feel less achey?" he suggested in a low voice. "I'll just make sure Paul and Sherlock are...okay and I'll be in."

"Right." He leaned in, nudged a kiss against John's temple, and moved on to load a plate up with rice and hot meat, juggling a mug of tea in one hand. It felt... like a victory.

It was all he could do not to just grab a plate and run in after Seb. He wanted to be his, just...be with him. He wasn't sure what he wanted specifically but holding on to him tightly was pretty much his main focus.

"Right... uh, so Sherlock, when you are done doing whatever you are doing, let yourself out. Paul, make sure the door is locked. Uh, help yourself to anything..." Except my partner. He could feel the words wanting to be said.

"Ugh, still going at it like squirrels. Yes yes. Clearly there's no point in trying to engage your brain on this mystery tonight," Sherlock muttered, "And tomorrow we'll discuss the missing pieces of Moriarty."

He grabbed his own portion of food rapidly. "Yeah well, I wouldn't be on form anyway," he said and grimaced. "It's been a full on night." Fights, explosions, traps, terror. And Sherlock looked as fresh as a daisy.  
One day he was going to decisively work out whether it was mania, natural exuberance, or meth. A B or C. He was leaning towards A, but as tired as he was and as tired as Sherlock wasn't... 

"I'll see him out," Paul offered, while pulling a t-shirt over his head.

"Thanks," John said acknowledging the offer. He wished in some way the other man was less personable or attractive as it would be easier to feel jealous. As it was he felt more petty and guilty about the whole thing. But resolutely, he squashed all that down, seeing Sherlock’s smirk and ignoring it as he headed to their bedroom and bathroom to look for Seb.  
The plate was left on the dresser top, and there was water running in the master bathroom, which was at least *theirs*, no interruptions. He'd left the door open, and John could smell soap.

"Want to join me?"

He shut the door behind him. "If you're okay with that...?" John replied. He wasn't sure how Seb would react after in effect being raped.  
Not that Seb was taking about it. He was in the tub, knees poking out of hot water, and a mug of tea cupped in both hands. "You saw the photos Moriarty sent."

"Yeah." John cleared his throat. "Eventually. Sherlock had nicked my phone. I wasn't entirely sure how close you would want anyone. I understand if you are uncomfortable about it."

"I used to do that shit for fun," Sebastian reminded, leaning back in the tub and looking up at John. He didn't look well, even if he did sound like he was reaching for bravado, it wasn't reaching his face. "C'mon, join me."

John stripped off taking stock of his own body. It had been a rough night. "Just as well I'm short huh? Budge up." He tried to slip into the bath water without tripping over Seb.

It was tight, and Seb did move up, and the water was warm as he settled in between Seb's ridiculously long legs in the tub that felt, suddenly, too small and too intimate. Seb slung an arm around his chest, and seemed to relax, even if he was squished up against the inside of the tub. "I missed you."

"Bloody hell, you have no idea how much I missed you and how fucking scared I was," John said lying back against him. If Seb wanted to hold him then that was very good from his point of view. "I thought Mycroft was telling me you were dead."

"He'd only tell you that if it was a convenience to him." Sebastian sipped at the tea, and set it on the thick tub rim, holding John tighter. "This wasn't what I expected when I agreed to work for him."

"I ...I don't want you being hurt like this," he said quietly. "Not when I couldn't seem to do anything to stop it."

"When the RTO finally drew blood on you, he fucked me and let me come." It was a strange non-sequitur, and John didn’t have the whole timeline right, but Sebastian's fingers moved up to just below the cut. "I thought you were going to die while I watched."

"He is such a screwed up bastard," John murmured, trying not to wince. "Completely unstable. Seb I'm sorry I couldn't get there sooner."

"We got ourselves out," Seb murmured, "And you nearly did rescue us. We'd've needed that if I hadn't scrounged up a bit of scrap."

"Yeah, well made my action hero one-liners fall a bit flat," John said lightly. "There I was swearing eternal vengeance and doom..."  
"And here you are back at home with me?" Seb offered smoothly. "I was so glad to see you."

"Well I do like to turn up when all the fun and games are over," John answered. What use had he actually been? What had he actually done? Run around with Sherlock a lot and get there at the last moment.

Seb nudged his mouth against the side of John's head, near to his ear. "I'm no damsel in distress that needs to be rescued. It was impressive seeing you holding your own and better with hardened operatives."  
That was...something at least. "I know you're not helpless but I thought... I needed to try, to do something Seb. I thought I'd lost you." He kept his voice steady by effort of will and turn his head to try and seek a kiss.

"You didn't lose me." Seb mumbled that, and then finally did kiss him, an awkward meeting of mouth that was warm and felt good and made John's neck ache, so he twisted to make better contact.

He found himself desperate to maintain that connection and almost feeling choked up with emotion out of the blue that he managed to control. "Seb, I'm sorry" he murmured.

"No, no, I want to feel this..." He pulled John back in, kissed him again, warm friction of mouth on mouth while John felt Seb's own breath shake against him.

"It's okay, you're home. Safe." Home was important to him. He started caressing him.  
Home was important to them both, and Seb shifted his legs so John could get closer, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. "My heads a mess. All I could think about was getting back to you."

That was also good to hear. "Let’s get out, get into bed with the food and do this properly," he said. "I want to make sure you are comfortable, and then we can make your head not a mess."

"I just want to sleep with you." And he was going to have to make him eat, but he could see the faint shaking of Seb's mouth as he curled fingers against the nape of John's neck.

"Sleeping we can do," he promised. "I'm not letting you go." He shifted carefully so he could get up. "Come on, let’s just rinse off in the shower and go to bed."

It was easy to do that, and Seb took a few deep breaths to steel himself while they both stood up and John turned the shower head on.  
Then it was a matter of not knocking over the tea mug and getting out of the bathroom, wrapped in towels and hurried, heading for bed. He didn't care what Paul did or didn't hear.

He got them settled in their bed...it felt good to call it their bed and this time he had Seb lie against him so he could make sure he could get food to him and try and make him feel safe somehow. Easier said than done. "Got your tea?" he asked resting the tray next to them. "Can't do anything without a cuppa."

"I missed plain black tea. And Indian take away," he murmured, laying in his side and comfortable against John as he poked at his chicken and rice with a folded up piece of naan.

"You look like you missed meals altogether," John murmured taking some himself. "Not that you had much covering you to start with. But...ribs Seb, I can see them." And the bruises all over them.

And bite marks, now that he was looking closer, and things he couldn't identify. "We were trying to get ahead of him. Didn't leave much time for anything more than grab and run."

"All the more reason to eat now," John said swallowing a mouthful. "I'm tired enough after one night of running around, I dread to think what you must feel like.”

"I could eat until I'm sick." And he might go get seconds, or John gm could get them for him, but for the moment he was eating steadily and warm against John's side.

"Lets not push our luck," John cautioned. "We got lots of good stuff here. High calorie, protein, carbs...And I don't want you being sick." It was amazing what a difference some food made to his emotions as well.

He felt more stable, and Seb had stopped looking like he wanted to cry, though his eyes had gotten more heavy lidded, closer to closed as he carefully ate his way through. "Big breakfast then. I'll do a fry up and eggs."

"I want you to sleep in, don't get up especially," John replied. "But yeah, we can do a fry up. I think we've still got sausages, eggs, bacon, mushrooms.." Maybe not enough for Paul and Sherlock if Sherlock turned up again.

And Paul was still hastily abandoned on the sofa. He'd have to make sure he was all right, because if Seb was down to bones, then he wasn't sure how Paul was looking so perky and alert. Other than faking it.  
He felt a tinge of guilt for his attitude towards the other man. He knew it was jealousy, completely unjustified and rooted in his own insecurity and he needed to just get over that shit because Seb did not need to deal with that. "Stomach okay? I know you've got a cast iron one, but if you haven't eaten for a bit.."

"Yeah. Thinking about getting another cuppa to nurse before going to sleep." He'd polished it all off, slow and lazy, and was leaning against John mellow.

"I'll go make you another," John said instantly. "Possibly I ought to check Paul is okay. I'm not being a good host really." It was a roundabout apology about Seb's friend.

"I invited him over. It's... You get into a wound up space when you've been on the run. Company, even just someone else in the house is a help." Or it was for Seb, and John knew that, knew that Seb had spent every moment he could with company, with John, after their first escape.

"Yeah, but I want to concentrate on you," he said. "But Paul is welcome to be here if he wants to be here." He put their plates back on the tray shifting a little. "I'll get the cup of tea for you."

"Thanks." Sebastian sprawled back slowly on the bed as John got out, and kept his eyes on him as he moved toward the door.  
He took the empty stuff with him, to stop the room stinking of Indian food. He padded out to the kitchen and tried not to disturb Paul in case he was sleeping already.

He seemed alert, sitting upright. "There's no point of locking Holmes out. He's cloned your key, you know?"

John sighed. Of course he had. Sherlock did that like breathing. "Yeah, I know. It's everyone else I want to keep out. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Worn thin, but it comes with the job. Sebastian doing all right?" Paul tilted his head a little, expression inquiring.  
"Some better," John said a little cautiously. "It might not have hit him yet." He moved to put the kettle on. "You want a cup of tea? Seb wanted another before we called it a night."

"If you're already making it, yeah, I'll help myself to some." Paul moved off the sofa, dressed at last, even if it was just shorts and a T-shirt. "He wasn't in good shape when he came back."

"I know." He knew that all to well. "Moriarty sent...selfies of what he was doing."

"... He didn't mention that. And you saw them. He said he and Moriarty's alter ego used to do that. What happened. He's trying to play it off like it was nothing." Paul leaned against the counter while the water slowly heated up.

"I know. And I know it's not nothing," John said getting out mugs. "I just need to get him to talk about it." But unless it was about fantasies and DIY communication was something they had issues with on occasion.

"Then ask him about it." Paul shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn’t know where to start."

"Neither do I?" John said hesitantly. "Suggestions would be helpful." They really would.

"Your boyfriend," Paul offered, leaning up to get a mug for the tea. "Make him feel safe and ask if he wants to talk about it. He didn't with me."

Again the surge of jealousy that surprised him that Paul had done that first. He settled for a nod and a change of subjects. "They give you enough meds for your foot?"

"Muscle relaxers and enough antibiotics to kill a horse. Feels great. A couple of weeks of food and sleep and everything will be right as rain."

John nodded. "You know you're okay to say as long as you need right?" he said not entirely sure why he was making the offer. For Seb maybe, or Sherlock was right and he was a masochist.

"Just a couple of days," Paul promised. "I know this place is... definitely yours, and I need to get back to my personal space, too."

That was good to hear. "Yeah well..uh.." He cleared his throat. "The therapists would probably call us codependent or something."

"Dunno. He's a spy, you're a doctor and run about with a Holmes, wouldn't call that codependent. What're you supposed to do, hook up and then leave?" Paul shrugged his shoulders again, offering a mug for John to pour tea into. "You're partners."

He poured out a cup and smiled. "Yeah. Yeah we are. Thanks. Okay, let me know if there is anything else you need. I'm going back to see if Seb is still awake."

"Good luck." Paul eased back, gave him space to move that he didn't need while he carried a fresh mug of tea back up the stairs, to do just that. He was quiet as he made his way into the master bedroom, and Seb had pulled the blankets up. It was hard to guess if he was awake or asleep, but the lights were still on.

"Seb?" John murmured putting the tea on the cabinet. He turned off the main light but kept the bedside one on as he went to slip back into their bed.

"Mmmph?" Seb shifted, moved to make space for him, lifting the sheets up. "Perfect, I smell tea."  
"Yeah, I didn't know if you'd dropped off or not," John said and slipped in next to him. "Here we go."

He reached for the mug, and John at the same time, one hand for the tea and the other hand clearly wanting to make contact with John has he got back into bed. "Naked is okay right now. You don't have to put shorts on."

"Then I'll go commando...don't let me go out in the kitchen like this," he replied slipping them off. "There. Paul was still awake, we had a few words." 

"Good. Glad I know he's somewhere safe." Sebastian sipped at the tea, and shifted to try and sling an arm around John as he settled in again. "I'm exhausted but not tired."

"It'll catch up with you in a bit when your dinner hits your stomach properly," John said leaning in. Seb was all about bodily contact. "You know, if you want to talk about stuff, I can listen."

He took a sip of tea and shifted in closer, leg pressing against John's legs, nursing slowly off the mug. "You remember Berlin."

"Difficult to forget that," John replied. His first real connection with Seb, the night at the club that had nearly gotten out of hand but they ended up in their own room.

"I've done a lot of stupid fucking shit, and I used to do a lot of it with Richard. As a blowing off steam thing. It was... It was never anything important." And Sebastian had admitted as much before in spurts and starts.

"Yeah, I figured you had a history when you said you hadn't used a safeword before," John said. Not that he had really either but then he hadn't been doing the sort of experimentation that needed one.

"Not a good history. Richard, Jim... Liked that shit a lot. More than I thought, given how much trouble he just went to." He glanced up at John, looking mellow and thoughtful. "And it was probably to get to you to injure Sherlock somehow."

"Okay, there's an angle I wasn't looking at," John admitted. "Mind you Sherlock has a tendency to run into danger."

"Bait, that puts more things at risk than just me. This has been about layers deep, more than meets the eye..." Sebastian exhaled, and then leaned across John to set a half slurped down mug on the side table. "I don't know."

"You are something he wants and stupid it might seem, I'm not letting that happen," John said.  
"It's not stupid." Sebastian kept his arm looped over John, and shifted down to hold onto him better. "It was... rough."

"How rough?" John asked carefully. He really wasn't sure how to make Seb let information go, but he could just try asking anything.

"He hurt me. And..." Sebastian's shoulders twitched. "I can't think about it right now. I just want to be here, home with you. It's not explaining it away, I just..."

"I know." John reached around him. "I'm not going to push you about it. But I want you to know I'll talk when you want to, or shut up, or do anything ...or just hold on."

"I just want to hold on right now." Sebastian pulled at John, getting him to lay down better, closer. "I'm a lot more pissed about my, our unit... I'll heal."

"Yes, you will," John murmured, determined to make that a fact not just a promise.

Sebastian pressed close and quiet against him, and he reached out to turn out the light, feeling Seb's hands linger. "It's a shame I'm horny."

John snorted with half suppressed laughter. "Tell you what, tomorrow if you are still in the mood you can have your way with me in the shower," he promised knowing that was Seb's favorite of the few things they had tried so far.

Seb shifted his hips, half hard as he pressed against John's thigh. "I can't help it, comfortable is a turn on."

"You are always a turn on to me Seb," John replied shifting a little against him so they really were pressed together. "But tonight might be a bit soon for you."

"Tonight I'm exhausted." And Seb's hips relaxed a little, fingers lingering warm against the bit of pudge on John's side. "Really missed you."

"Don't scare me like that again," John said closing his eyes.

"Try not to." He stretched his fingers and didn't move, just breathing. They laid there quietly for a while, and John let himself drift off.

* * *

Their brief report to Mycroft had not been enough. He needed to analyse even the most innocuous phrase or means of expression, the places, the people. Anything could be a clue for someone like Mycroft, or slot together and that meant being ruthless. John was hovering a bit obviously not entirely sure what to do to help.

"Just, it's okay. Sit down, John." Report writing was boring, after all, and Paul was there tapping away on Seb's spare laptop.

"What are you both writing?" John asked looking between the two of them. Paul was trying to write with his injured ankle still up. "I thought you had made your report."

"That was more like placing bail," Sebastian pointed out, balancing his laptop carefully on his knees. They had given Mycroft enough to get home to get rest.

"This is going to be an orgy of PowerPoint presentations," Paul said. "And a level of detail."

"Orgy? You must be better at this than I am," Sebastian said, leaning over to look at Paul's screen.

"They are like nested russian dolls or some shit like that." Paul said. "Look, if you run this without taking off that last transition, it starts an infinite loop."

"Should I be doing something? Writing a report?" John asked.

"You're part of the undocumented wing," Sebastian reminded, leaning a little more to look at what Paul was showing him on the screen, and then glancing at John. "You don't change a thing you do."

"We're trying to analyse any minor details we can, " Paul said. "If you have any insight's feel free to jot them down. Seb and I have the mission prior to what happened to go over."

"But what are you looking for?" John asked. "What is important?"  
"Everything. Nothing." Sebastian settled back, focused on his own document file and slides. He's always hated writing documents in PowerPoint and visa versa. "I'm going back to what I can of when we were in Afghanistan, too. That... Is key to whatever he's done."

"Yes, you two might have better insight on that," Paul said. "You knew him in that setting. If you can think of anything, that would be good."

"I'm trying to think of anything that might be relevant," John said. He seemed to be half thinking of cooking something from the way he went to look in the freezer.

"Everything is relevant." Sebastian leaned up, half watching John meander in the kitchen. "Changes you saw in the pattern of life."

"Hmm." John seemed thought as he started chopping some vegetables. Looked like parsnips and carrots so there was probably a stew or beouf bourginon in their future. "He went out a lot more than most quartermasters."

"Most quartermasters are busy guarding their supplies from people who might try to use the last five of whatever they have on hand," he joked. "Or stealing more supplies. From unguarded pallets."

"Now that I can believe. Can you remember when Morgan really wanted that obscure brand of beer and he somehow got it?" John said. "No one had a bloody clue where he could have got it from. Some sort of microbrew."

"Came in with a German shipment," Sebastian grinned, leaning back against the sofa. "I know. Their colonel came to me about it and I traded them some Stella cidre at Christmas to make amends. And by trade, I let them steal some back."

"German shipment is worth mentioning," Paul said. "If he had established routes through there. Still doesn't explain the exact strategic importance of where you were held. What route does that become?"

"Up to Pakistan. Because of the flyover limitations, most every big shipment had to come in through the mountains, to flow down to ISAF." Seb shifted his computer off of his lap, got up to get himself a glass of water.

"And Pakistan is a good place to vanish," Paul mused. "Fuck. It ties up with those movements of material."

"Material?" John asked looking up.

"Hmn. This is your place to explain, Paul, not mine. I have the before, you have the behind the scenes..." He grabbed a glass from the shelf, and turned on the tap.

"Before your discharge, there were reports surfacing of black market weaponry and weapons of mass destruction elements," Paul said looking up at him. "Very tenuous but traceable with effort." 

"Smuggling ring doesn't seem worth losing a fucking leg for," Seb muttered, watching John work. "Do you want help or should I just slink back to my laptop?"

"I can chop vegetables alone," John said. "Keep working on it, I'll chip in."

"That's got to be a front for some other kind of operation," Paul said thoughtfully. "Moriarty is establishing himself as ...what? the go to guy?" 

"Given what we've seen, he's established." Sebastian took his water glass back to the livingroom. "He hasn't got to put on a show for the sake of it."

"So. This is an actual operation. Smuggling. Possibly, but wiping out an entire outpost," Paul hesitated. "We're missing something. Mycroft is missing something."

"Sherlock would be beside himself to hear that."

"Clapping like a schoolchild you mean," Seb snorted, sprawling with care again on the sofa. "You wipe out an entire outpost for the attention it took."

"Mm. So they move things. Pakistan route, from there to pretty much anywhere. It's a temporary measure, so we are not talking about establishing a permanent passage. So you've got to have a one off high profile shipment to shift," Paul said. He shook his head. "Radioactive material though worrying isn’t that hard to get hold of."

"Tools to use it are," Seb countered, hauling his laptop back to a useful position.

"You know, we get taught in triage surgery that there is a tendency to see the first blood and automatically start to treat that, and your patient can be bleeding out from a massive hole in their back." John called out. 

Sebastian was quiet for a moment as he mulled it over. "I, uh. How's that go?"

"I'm just saying, that it's human nature to focus on the first threat waved under its nose," John said and there was a faint sizzling noise as he obviously started to fry off the meat for the stew.

" Interesting thought.So, assume the materials are the smokescreen, what is really being moved?" Paul mused.

"Intel," Sebastian guessed. "Massive intelligence transfer, uh... shit, I've got nothing."

"Hmm." John sounded like he was frowning. "This reminds me of something I read somewhere. Dammit what was it? One of those logic puzzles, or uh..." There was a pause while the meat sizzled and then John suddenly said "Wheelbarrows!"

"Hmn?" Sebastian tapped absently at his keyboard, and turned that over. He vaguely remembered the story about a man wheeling wheelbarrows of straw over a border. "So not what's in it, but what was carrying it?"

"Yeah, the police were checking the straw in the wheelbarrows and it was the wheelbarrow the smuggler was moving," John said.

"That's..." Paul said up straight, tense all of a sudden. "The people moving the goods. Seb, you think...you've got a direct pipeline up to Russia, route to Pakistan, and the equivalent of a complete black out... who do you move?"

"High value targets," Sebastian grinned, looking over to the kitchen. "That's fucking brilliant. John, you're fucking brilliant."

"Can't take the credit, read it in a book somewhere," John said. "We got any of that cheap wine left anywhere? I want to cook this in it."

"There was cheap malbec in the pantry when I left the country a couple of months ago." And there was probably still cheap malbec, but it was somewhat drinkable. Ish. "That's still fucking brilliant."

"Great." John said going to rummage even as Paul said, "Now I see why Sherlock wants to hold onto him."

"Yeah, no question." Sebastian watched the kitchen door for a moment, and then glanced down to his screen, and started to outline things, quiet for a few moments. "I do wonder why we haven't seen him up yet. Holmes."

"Sherlock has been up most of the night," John said. "From the text messages. I'm not sure what he is doing."

"Not sleeping while we were enjoying warm beds? Probably solving this out from under us," Seb decided. He couldn't help but feel both jealous and awed by Sherlock.

Sherlock had that sort of casual genius to him that in retrospect he realized hung over Jim, and who used it like some sort of camouflage.

"I bet you he's with Mycroft," John said. "Bound to be."

"Our report writing might be irrelevant." Two geniuses together would out think the three of them, as long as things didn't get catty.

"Yeah well, Sherlock sometimes deletes trivial information from his memory," John pointed out wandering back in. "So you never know what he's gotten to in things."

The flat smelled good, and Sebastian was half way to scooting over to John so he could sit down, but John did prefer to sprawl in his arm chair. "Here, does this look like the layout as you remember?"

John had his expression of concentration as he looked over the diagram. "I believe so. You've got a good memory Seb."

"Sometimes I wonder." He'd forgotten how John looked deep in thought, the way his eyes crinkled up, and that was a feeling that left him feeling warm in the pit of his stomach. "Did you ever see Richard in places he shouldn't've been?”

"All the bloody time," John said shaking his head. "He was constantly popping up all over the place."

"He just seemed sociable." And some people were extroverts and sometimes things were slow. And often they weren't, but quartermasters, they tended to get around, and he needed to have the man, the position in close reach.

"He'd just say he was getting something for someone, or taking something. If he was in the Infirmary it was one of the patients." John replied. "I did see him in that village a lot, the one where you met with the Elders. He'd slip off there off towards the north of the village. He always implied he was uh..." John gestured.

"Busy? On a mission?" And Sebastian had been thoroughly distracted with the threat level. So, the guards, the guards had let the man slip out.

"Or something," John admitted. "He usually came back with something. Something useful."

"Something he stole from someone else," Sebastian guessed, watching John. "But he was our quartermaster and I never had a reason to suspect him."

"Perfect position for someone with his agenda," Paul mused. "We'll have to work on that. Well Sherlock or not, we have it in our report now."

"I feel like I'm still missing something." Sebastian couldn't place what, but it was a tip of the tongue feeling.

"Aside from the fact he is a complete nutjob?" John said from where he was sprawled in his chair. "If he is like Sherlock, he's likely to be running multiple game plans."

"So we're being played," Sebastian guessed, leaning back in the sofa. "I wonder if we were supposed to escape."

"Possibly not when we did," Paul said. "I think...he wanted you for longer."

John definitely did not like the sound of that.

Not from the way he frowned. It was really bizarre for Sebastian to contemplate, that Jim/Richard was willing to go so far for a fuck toy. "Glad I'm such a hot fucking commodity."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Paul admonished. "Geniuses find it difficult to find someone to...well bond with. They have to be smart, competent, able to balance them. Sherlock latched on to John and Jim appears to be measuring you up for the role."

"And Mycroft?" John said giving Paul a rather direct look. Paul just gave a slow smile.

Sebastian looked between them for a moment before it caught. "You're having me on."

"It's not like I get much sex out of it," Paul said with a smirk. "But yeah. Mycroft's right hand.In a sometimes literal sense."

"... I wish I didn't know he was left handed." It was the best Sebastian could offer, as he looked down at his laptop. "Well, I think I'm done with the report now. It'll take all day for my brain to recover."

"You want me to take it to Mycroft? I probably ought to give you two some alone time," Paul offered.

"Planning on coming back for dinner?" It smelled great, after all, and there was a chance that he and John might come up with something else. Or that Moriarty might go after Paul.

"Sure," Paul said. "It smells too good to miss. Considering how much crap we usually eat I don't want to miss out."

"We'll expect you then, " John said. "And watch that ankle of yours...no jogging on it."

"Stitches might open up." He could guess that Paul was going to go home, change clothes, take the report to Holmes, and that had a whole new outlook to it now that he thought about it.

"Yes doctors," Paul flipped a salute getting up. "Put it on USB Seb, and I'll get out of here for a bit. " He gave Seb a bit of a smirk as he did so.

It took him a minute to find an usb drive on the coffee table, but loaded the document and the PowerPoint graphics up for Paul to take with him. "Thanks." A little quiet time would be... good. He hadn't really wanted to get out of bed that morning.

Paul took it off of him. "Just to be on the paranoid side, when I come back, if I use your call sign I'm being coerced okay?" he said as he headed to the door. "I'll see you later - have fun."

"Right. Be safe." He shifted himself up slowly to see Paul out, to lock the door behind him, and no matter how safe he felt inside at the moment there was no real safety. Not really.

John looked at him, having shifted to be sitting with one leg overhanging the arm of his chair. "Paul and Mycroft huh? No wonder he hits on anything that moves."

"That or it's his job to bait and troll," Seb chuckled as he locked the door, before turning back towards John. "Now everything makes a lot more sense."

"Well, a bit more sense. Not complete sense," John replied, looking up at him and smiled. "Alone at last." 

"Alone at last. So, joining me on the sofa or am I going to have to crawl into that chair with you," Sebastian half-asked.

"Wellll..." John got up and sat on the couch still smiling. "At least we stand a chance of keeping those legs under control." He settled, still kneeling, half over John, comfortably close as they settled. "Not a chance. I missed you."

"And I you," he said reaching around him. John always felt warm and solid somehow and now was no different. "I was going crazy not knowing where you were."

"I thought I was going to die anonymous in some fucking little cave for a while there." He leaned in, kissed him slowly. "And that no one would tell you."

"One advantage of having Sherlock around, he cut through the crap and narrowed down where you could be in about ten minutes," John murmured kissing him back.

So they'd started to look for him right off. Sebastian slid his hands down to John's sides, mostly lingering there, relaxed for the moment. Jumped in was much better than tricked. "You never fail to completely impress, John."

"We didn't so much fall in the trap as jump feet first," John said. "Mycroft said you were missing, I lost it and got him to give any information and went to Sherlock with it."

"How did you even find a start point?" As far as he knew there had been no request for proof of life. "How did you fall into the trap?"

“One advantage of having Sherlock around, he cut through the crap and narrowed down where you could be in about ten minutes,” John murmured kissing him back.

"Why? Because we came after you?" John said moving against him.

"And found me." He felt oddly compelled to point that out. "You jumped into the right trap and then made better sense of it than you had any right to, and that..." That was hot.

"To be fair, if it had been just me I'd probably still be out there," John said kissing him.

"Doubt it." He kissed his back, slow, liking the warm friction of John's lips against his own, and that it was different, entirely different than Jim had been. Fuck that had hurt, and he'd been so turned on and so hurt at the same time.

"You want to do something more?" John asked tentatively. He was obviously still worried.

"Let's see how far we can get? Slow. This feels good just as it is," Sebastian said, letting his fingers linger.

"Then you get to lead," John said definitely. "I did say that last night." He smiled and Seb could feel his hands smoothing over his clothes.

"That might be the problem," Sebastian hummed, leaning back in to kiss John again. "I could sit here and do this all day."

"If that's what you want," John murmured. "You know, because it's such a hardship for me."

"I just want to mellow out and enjoy this," Sebastian murmured, pulling slowly at John's shirt, and not with much intensity.

"Mellow is good," John replied as they settled down to some careful exploration.

felt good to explore John a little, to re-remember how to he felt and the longer he felt John, the more into it he felt, finally pulling John's shirt off, and his own.

John responded in kind, but he could feel the caution in his response. He knew John wanted to be cautious, because he was worried for him and he didn't have much experience of someone worrying about him.

It was novel. "Hey, we can take our time," Sebastian murmured, leaning down to kiss his neck, and nuzzle him. "Even if I am horny."

"I don't mind I just don't want to...cross any lines," John replied kissing him back. "Really don't want to do that."

"You're not going to cross any lines. Not as careful as we're being. I'll say if you are." He shifted his hips, pressing a palm against John's stomach to ease down to unzip his trousers.

"I know I just...don't want you to be hurt...that way." That way, a bad way rather than a way he liked. John seemed to accept his reasoning and shifted to allow him greater access.

It was all quiet heartfelt apologies mumbled into skin. Kiss for a kiss, free roaming hands everywhere. John just moved into him, he slowed, fingers lingering obscenely on John's cock, and turned his head, trying to meeting mouth to mouth with him. "So scared I was never going to see you again, I..." Yes, yes.

"Feels good..." John mumbled as he moved around his neck. "I love you." It was barely a whisper but it nearly stopped him dead. John saying that out loud.

"No. Just yours..." He tipped his head, made it easier for John to do that, while he stroke John slowly, shaping his dick upright.

"You are not anyone else’s," John said possessively, and he could feel him making a mark.  
It felt right, seared right down to leave him edged up and wanting more. And not having to have it, not having to do more than he was. He lingered, sighing as John sucked firm on his neck. "Uhn, damn yes..."

They just spent time gently exploring. His hand on John, John's sliding over his skin. Kisses becoming a focal point of a slow burn as their movements were slow and languid. John was teasing at his neck, working on a love-bite.

It felt good, to make John hard, to relax and feel heat pool at the base of his dick, a heavy ache that felt good just to savor. John's hand idled low on his hip.

Another time he would want the flip side. But not today, not so soon. "Fuck Seb." He could feel his cock starting to become erect.  
To feel through it, to touch at his urges to go and stop, and kiss John in between his touches lower, cupping John's balls with care.

He wriggled to help Seb get them off and he had wanted this for all the closeness and intimacy he had just sleeping with him. Trust was it felt good to be able to determine the limits at the moment. 

"You won't hurt me." Sebastian kissed him again, and started to unbuckle John's pants.

It seemed that he was eager just to feel his skin, if nothing else once he got the clothes off. John's hands traced over every mark Jim had left on him, gently and carefully as different as night and day.  
He shifted finally, eased off of John long enough to try to fumble both of their trousers down.  
He slowed, fingers lingering obscenely on John's cock, and turned his head, trying to meeting mouth to mouth with him. "So scared I was never going to see you again, I..." Yes, yes.  
Felt so good, even if John's fingers brushed bruises and fresh scabs, and Christ, he kept forgetting how much of a mess he was. "Want to go up to bed so we can stretch out for this?"

"Hell yes," John murmured. "Or we are going to screw up our backs even more."

"Knees, I was thinking," Seb confessed, keeping a hand on John's hip and keeping him close as they both stood up.

They managed make it to the bedroom with only a couple of accidental hits to exposed legs and sides. It was difficult to negotiate the stairs while kissing and fondling each other.

But he didn't want to let go and it felt good to be awkward, to relax. It felt good for the normalcy of it, for John pulling away to pull the sheets down and Sebastian getting in the way of it.  
John was focused on him, not in the fast needy way they sometimes had but in something more tender. He wasn't fragile, he knew he wasn't fragile but the mere fact that John was considerate of the possibility was something different to him. He'd never been the first thing in someone else’s thoughts before.  
And with John... he was. He stopped short of letting John pull him into bed, stopped him and made him hold still for a moment so he could do his own mapping and feeling, his making a moment in his head. Just kissing, just trying to give some of that attention back to John.  
It was something they missed the night before because of too many other people, too much tiredness, being too close to what had happened. John was smiling as he explored him gently as if he was the best thing in the world. 

"You.." he said punctuating his words with kisses, "are not allowed to get hurt. Ever."

"If you could have a word with the rest of the world on that..." He smiled as he said it because John, John sounded scared for him, for them both, something tight in his tone.

"I'll bloody well give a lecture to anyone if it works," he murmured in a huff of breath against his skin. "I don't think I can do this without you."

He clutched at John a little tighter. "You're stronger than that. I don't want you to have to do it, though. Rather be here with you myself."

"That's it, we're staying in bed forever," John declared pressing against him, moving with a very stimulating friction.  
"Oh." Oh, that made his balls ache and his interest go from present to begging. Made it easier to nudge John to the bed.  
John went down as if he expected the push, dragging him with him. "Like that huh?"

"It's a very appealing thought. And you're so fucking amazing." Appealing, gorgeous, safe, a place he could relax and be soft and lean down and just linger and touch.

"Comes with the medical experience," he quipped back. "I said I'd let you do whatever you wanted so here I am..."

And there he was, stretching back on the mattress with a soft smile on his mouth and a look in his eyes that made Sebastian feel warm and stupid when he slid fingers down along John's thigh. "That's like offering me a whole cake. I don't know where to start."

"Well...the word I'm thinking of sounds similar to 'cake'," John said with a grin. "And you can eat all of it if you want to!"  
He gave a quiet laugh, and leaned down to kiss John briefly, before nuzzling his way down to John's collar bones. "Does it rhyme with cake? Really?"

"If you substitute a vowel," John said starting to mess with his hair.

"Hmn, Coke?" he teased, leaning down to kiss John's nipple letting his teeth linger lightly.

"Tease," John replied and then made that inhalation of anticipation that Seb remembered and wanted to hear again.  
It was a sound he never wanted to not-hear, a sound he'd forgotten the details of, and he took his time sliding fingers over John's belly, down to the base of his cock.

"Do you want me to do anything?" John asked, even as his fingers lightly massaged his scalp and he moved in reaction to what he was doing.

"Just keep doing that." Smelled like John, felt like John, sounded like John. He kissed his way down, lingering at John's stomach and letting his fingers slide back to cup his balls, stretching and relaxing as he moved.

"I think I'm going to explode," John groaned. "If you keep that up."  
So he stopped, kissing his way down the underside of John's dick, mouthing over his balls with the same slowness.

There were whimpers, and occasional "Seb…" sounds as well as increasing sensation that John wanted to guide his head to do more, to push further.

And it lasted longer, he wanted to make it last forever, shifted a hand to squeeze right at the base of John's cock when he started to sound too close, too needy.  
It was easy to lose himself in the small sounds and motions John was making in response to him sucking his cock. He had his vocal moments but this sort of attention usually resulted in a symphony of gasps, breath, small groans, tiny noises that were all sex.  
Sebastian shifted his hands, placed his thumbs on John's hipbones, and just felt those motions, the signals John gave. He kept his first sucking soft and slow, breathing and enjoying how John tasted, the pre-come against his tongue.

"Oh god..." John murmured, soft and quiet, more to himself than anything. He arched a little as if he couldn't help it.

It was that feeling of relief again, odd and persistent, mingling with his arousal, as he finally shifted down to kiss the head of John's cock.  
He was taking his time, and able to do as he wanted. John's familiar presence grounded him as he set to exploring a teasing without any hurry at all.

"That's okay. I like how this feels." He turned his head, kissed the inside of John's thigh. It wasn't sex like in porn, or with Jim, no contact, no skin on skin, no stopping to relish the way John's thigh twitched or anything else, the pressure of John's foot against his side. 

John was twisting to find a better angle, trying to hold himself back for him, but it was very obvious he wasn't going to last much longer.

Sebastian stopped, shifted to kiss the top of John's thigh. "Not yet. Just, I want you to fuck me."

John hesitated. "You want me to but..." He paused. "Are you sure?" He double checked looking directly at Seb.

It was almost hard to meet his gaze, and Seb knew it was trying something too soon, but... "A lot of lube. Facing you, please."

"Okay," John said nodding, still holding his eyes. "You want to stop at any point just say...I'd rather know." He pulled him up a little reaching for their lube, and intent on thoroughly preparing him from the look in his eye.  
Paired with the kisses and nuzzles against his neck, Sebastian almost felt a spasm in reaction, moaning and trying to not get in the way of John's hands. "Oh fuck yes..."  
"I'm going in," John warned nuzzling him and he really did have a knack for finding the hotspot and dealing with it in a way that started with almost imperceptible touches that sent a thin stir of sensation though him.  
"Hey, look, the prostate is whisphering to me already," John said almost chuckling. His fingers were moving carefully inside of him.

"Oh." He shifted, stretched his leg out in desperation to try to not move too much.

"You're gorgeous," John said as he continued. If it had been Jim, he would have called him a good little whore or something like that. He'd never been keen on that side of things.  
He didn't know how to take it, either, except that John's voice sounded soft and low and more of a rumble than a whisper, and he reached his hand down to clutch at John's shoulder, stroke at his back, and just feel.

He'd asked for plenty of lube and he was getting it. He was being stroked internally, touched by him all with something warmer and more satisfying than what Jim had done. John kept it up until he was loose and almost drunk with the burst of sensation from the fingers inside of him. Then he was slicking up himself and positioning himself over him. "Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Uh-huh." He shifted, sliding his arms loosely around John, pulling his legs up, His muscles were sore, but everything that mattered was relaxed and comfortable. "Want to remind myself how good feels."

"Okay," he murmured and there it was, a gentle pushing at his hole, and his cock sliding in to a well loosened ass.

"Ohhhh, yeah." He let himself go, let himself relax and shift how he wanted to, react. John pushed in slow and easy, and his hips pressed up against Seb's ass in a nice tight way, enough that he could bend his leg and press the heel of his foot against John's thigh. "Missed this."

"Get yourself comfortable," John said having to take a couple of moments to compose himself. "I'm pacing myself." He started moving slow and sure in long drawn out thrusts.

"Uhm..." He wanted frenzied, he wanted John to pick up his speed and he could tell he wasn't going to. And it would've hurt, it would've been more than just an ache that felt good and made his dick stir.  
John wouldn't do that, not now. "Mmm. Shift your leg up." He was sacrificing speed for depth and pushing in at an angle that was good.

And he shifted, even when he wanted to reach up and pull John down and just hold him, ruin the angle and luxuriate a little more in body to body.  
It was a slow thrust, over and over. Skin against skin, and the way he sometimes angled deep to be able to kiss him at the same time. John did start speeding up a little.  
But slowly, and he was breathing hard, dick throbbing between their bodies as he kissed John, and savored it, clutching at his back, touching his hips, grounding himself in John, feeling the heat and his muscles and how he smelled.  
It was everything the other experience was not. Jim could arouse a stick, but John could give him a complex mix of emotion, pleasure and security. He was doing a fantastic job of fucking him just how he needed. The speed was coming now, escalating rapidly.  
But the contact was there, John's chest flushed and sweaty, his face relaxed and caught up in the moment, and Sebastian leaned up, kissed his neck and pulled him in closer with one leg. "Please..."

"I'm going for it," he murmured back. "I can’t stroke you off with this arm..." he said as an apology. Then he needed all his breath to do what he had promised to do.  
He could've jerked himself off, but it felt better against John's stomach, trapped between their bodies, warm skin and closeness and John fucking him then coming. He'd come enough and there were so many ways to do that, and not so many ways to feel John all over him.  
John hit his rush to climax, and there was the frenzy he was waiting for, the feeling he was needed and wanted intensely. He could feel the moment when John came, shuddering slightly inside of him and semi collapsing on him.  
Heard it, too, the stuttered noise and he clutched at him with one leg and both arms, goading John to relax onto him. "Not going to crush me.”  
"Good, cos I've got just enough strength to jack you off," he said reaching down to his cock.

John shifted a little, half off of him, and that felt good, intimate and close enough to still kiss John while John wrapped fingers around his dick. "Perfect."  
He could've jerked himself off, but it felt better against John's stomach, trapped between their bodies, warm skin and closeness and John fucking him then coming. He'd come enough and there were so many ways to do that, and not so many ways to feel John all over him.

John hit his rush to climax, and there was the frenzy he was waiting for, the feeling he was needed and wanted intensely. He could feel the moment when John came, shuddering slightly inside of him and semi collapsing on him.

Heard it, too, the stuttered noise and he clutched at him with one leg and both arms, goading John to relax onto him. "Not going to crush me."

"Good, cos I've got just enough strength to jack you off," he said reaching down to his cock.

John shifted a little, half off of him, and that felt good, intimate and close enough to still kiss John while John wrapped fingers around his dick. "Perfect."

John was jacking him off with expert skill, letting him fuck into his slick hand.

He wanted to come, so it wasn't going to take much, just a few more strokes, John's thumb skimming the head of his cock.

"That's it Seb, come for me," John murmured quickening the pace for a last rapid surge.

And all of the he had to do was relax, relax and enjoy it, holding John close as he finally felt everything go tight, and came.

It was a release that was nothing like what had happened with Jim. It was fulfilling, and warm and amazing, and John was carefully cleaning him up before coming back and lying down half on top of him.

He wrapped an arm around john, and laid there boneless and appreciating the closeness. "Needed that."

"Yeah." John yawned. "Only just gotten up and now I'm ready to sleep again," he said as he lay there. "Hope Paul takes his time.27

"Not a bad reason to want to sleep, is it?" He joked softly, still holding on to john.

"One of the best. Didn't sleep much when we were trying to find you," John said. "You going to take a nap?"

"Yeah." He shifted a little, pressed his cheek against John's hair. They had the time. It was good to have time again.

* * *

What was remarkable was that no one had interrupted them. John was at first relieved that Paul popped back, said that he had to do something for Mycroft and disappeared. And then was even more surprised that Sherlock had gone quiet as well. It led to a very re-affirming time between him and Seb and he relished it.%0AAnd then he got worried. After two days, neither of them had reappeared, Mycroft hadn't contacted Seb, and though they were re-establishing normality, John had never known Sherlock to be considerate of emotional needs.  
Which was why he was unsurprised when the front door opened just as he was crouching over Sebastian's lap, with Seb's hands down his pants.

"Oh really haven't you two finished the sexual exploits?" Sherlock said as he breezed in. "You should be convinced you are both alive by now."

John groaned. "You could knock Sherlock."

"Why? I've got a key."

Sebastian clutched tight at his asscheeks, and buried his face against John's shoulder. "Jesus. At least close the door behind you."

"Why? We’ll be leaving in a moment," Sherlock said. "Do keep up. Some of us have been working while you've been having fun."

The mood was definitely shattered. John sighed as he shifted.

"No one would answer my calls," Seb countered, shifting his hands up to John's waist.

"Because we were busy," he replied pacing restlessly. "Mycroft was being obtuse and our arguments get loud when I have to get through to him."

"So what is this revelation that we have to know about right now?" John asked, moving to readjust himself.

He was still hard, and Sebastian carefully let go of him. There was no hope at professionalism then, and John didn't know why he tried most days. "If it's so important that no one was answering their phones."

"There are multiple confirmed threats out there," Sherlock said diffidently. "Mycroft is doing Mycroft sort of things, but it's obvious it's just a ploy. Moriarty is attention seeking."

"And you know all about that," John said dryly as he got up.

"Takes one to know one. " He didn't look at Seb, but he knew the man was probably straightening himself, getting less wound up and trying to pretend they hadn't been having a great time to themselves. Still getting re-acquainted, as Sherlock had put it. "But there's always threats out there. Is it our threat?"

"Obviously. Most of the people imported through the hole in the net are being tracked down. The weapons are also being located. What we have however is one specific individual who is at large, who is blatantly being used by Moriarty as a lure." Sherlock said.

"Anyone we might know about?" John queried. 

"Yes." Except 'yes' wasn't a useful answer and Sebastian snorted when Sherlock offered that. "Well, yes, and yes, by tracked down I mean, at least we know they left their previous zones of influence and the man's done decades worth of damage, but some in particular are more imminent threats than others."

"Sherlock, please. Who is it who we have to find?" John asked. Sherlock could be downright infuriating. "And why are they different to anyone else who slipped the net?"

"Because they were connected with an Op that your bed partner here was instrumental in performing," Sherlock said. "And Moriarty probably can't resist it. Operation North Star."

"Oh, are you fucking kidding me?" Sebastian shifted, standing up a little restless from the sofa. "Which one of those bastard Russians?"

"Sergei Golov," Sherlock said. "That is my deduction based on the personality type that Moriarty gravitates towards. "

John tried not to snort. The way Sherlock said "Sergei" reminded him irritably of the adverts about the meerkats that were all over the TV.

It was always funny to get a hint of what Sherlock watched on TV. "Son of a bitch. If my personality type you mean sociopath," Sebastian snorted, and he turned a little restlessly towards John, starting to pace. "It was part operative full assassin."

"Which does describe you," Sherlock said. "Now it is possible that Moriarty is still trying to get your attention. Jealousy possibly. However, he has someone he can pull the strings of and who owes him. What is the most likely target?"

"There are too many possible targets to count. The queen, Mycroft, some head of state, you, me, John, oh." it startled John, how soft Sebastian's voice tipped after he said his name.

"Mm. The connecting point. Ordinary, unremarkable aside from one thing. " Sherlock looked at him. "A lynch pin."

"Me?" John glanced at Seb and then Sherlock. "Why? That doesn't make sense."

"Makes a world of sense." Sebastian tilted his head, looking toward their windows, which were far on the opposite side of where they sat. He'd always wondered about that, but it was better to not watch tv with glare. "You make me better. You sure as hell make this genius act something like a human."

 

John felt more than a little disconcerted at this. "But he is focused on toying with Sherlock and obsessed with you," he said trying again to rationalize it. "And Mycroft doesn't give a shit about me personally. Paul.." Paul would help but then he'd help anyone.

"You said it yourself. He's focused on toying with Sherlock and obsessed with me. And if he manages to get an assassin I couldn't kill because of the bloody Geneva Convention to murder you..."

"So, what the hell do we do?" John asked them both.

"We find the assassin before he gets anywhere," Sherlock declared as if that was the main effort right there.

"Anywhere *more*. It's been ages since they wiped us out, and another units' surely moved back in," Sebastian countered. "And since he's moved through it, I, fuck, has someone spotted him?"

"I am sure one of our sources of information will come up with the goods," Sherlock said. He looked at his phone. "That would have been an excellent time to receive a message. Mycroft is losing his touch."

"Should I stay here?" John asked, skin crawling a little at the prospect of being hunted.

"You should stay with us," Sebastian said without hesitating, still eyeing the window.

"Yes, staying in one place makes you easy to find," Sherlock agreed. His phone beeped then, and he looked at it, smiling. "We have a possible siting."

"Are we doing the stupid shit thing where we chase after the siting and put ourselves out into danger?" Sebastian asked.

John grimaced as Sherlock studied him with a little smirk. "And why would we do that when we have the bait right here?" he said. 

"I thought you were trying to protect me?" John asked knowing that look all too well now. "Using me as bait is not necessarily in that spirit."

"Don't be ridiculous. I propose establishing a trap."

"I'm not going to use John as bait," Seb countered, pacing again, closer to Sherlock as it was helping.

"Bait here, bait there," Sherlock made a dismissive gesture. "If we are correct, and of course I am, you don't get the choice. Wherever he is, he's a target."

"That doesn't mean we should go looking for trouble," John said.

"I thought the army taught you to think tactically," Sherlock said. "You have a known target, and an enemy gone to ground. So what do you do?"

"Find a more tactically sound position. And prepare to strike back." He stopped pacing, and looked up to the ceiling. "Ah."

"You have an idea?" John queried. Seb had been the Colonel after all. He had the experience and though he trusted Sherlock's genius, he trusted Seb's tactics more. Sherlock had a tendency to believe he could out think anything, even in the middle of it. John was half convinced Sherlock believed he could out think gravity if he fell off a building or something.

"Well, the problem with staying here is that this apartment *is* for making a sniper's nest out of. The angles are perfect for taking shots without being made vulnerable because of the disparate window heights in the surrounding buildings." Sebastian gestured at the windows on the other side of the room. 

"Which also makes observing Sherlock from here stupidly easy except I didn't have to bother. And Sherlock, you can see...?"

"A great deal. But it is more vulnerable on our side of the street," Sherlock replied. "So. We need a place, somewhere that will not be conducive to long range sniper fire." Well that was comforting. John shifted awkwardly.

"No, I was thinking of someplace that might make useful bait without the risk," Sebastian murmured. "We're already someplace not conductive to receiving long range sniper fire."

"There's the hospital," Sherlock said and John shook his head immediately.

"No. No way, we are not endangering patients." He said instantly.

"Hmn, need an emptier place with just as many angles that we can *also* preposition at," Sebastian countered, rather than press the hospital issue. "I would rather be bait then John." 

The offer, unnecessary as it was, startled him. Sherlock looked pensive for a moment. "A possibility. It is inevitable if we go to ground, Moriarty will find a way to draw me out. He would expect John to be my companion no doubt, but perhaps substituting you would have an interesting effect."

Sebastian focused his attention on John, and then added, “I’ll see what Paul thinks."

John was not a hundred percent happy with this strategy, not even remotely. He wasn't wanting Seb taking risks like this especially after just being released and the ordeal he had been through. Sherlock was not exactly the type to be protective over him either. "I'm not some Disney princess to be locked away in a tower. I was.. We were soldier's Seb, I do know the risks."

"But we won't be playing a soldiers game," Sherlock said. He steppled his fingers thoughtfully. "I need to think."

“It’s not even a game *I’m* good at playing. Or Paul. It’s a criminal’s game.” Sebastian shrugged his shoulders, still pacing. “Richard, Jim, whoever, his game is so many layers deep."

"Fortunately, *I* am a grandmaster," Sherlock said. "My flat is more defensible and Mycroft already has it monitored... I haven't bothered to sweep for bugs for a week so he is no doubt informed. It would be best if we temporarily moved over there. This flat can be the observation post. If we set up some of Mycroft's flunkies over here, they do have an excellent vantage point."

"Then shouldn't we stay here?" John asked, trying to work out if it would be easier put in that level of monitoring here instead.

“Yours is sniper angle central,” Sebastian pointed out, “And this place is not.”

"I thought we had established he won't want to be killing John, more likely to want to take him as a hostage, that changes the parameters. It makes it more sensible to have an observable base if it is being monitored, so we can see who is coming," Sherlock argued.

"So, we are willing to take a chance I won't be shot at, and put me in a goldfish bowl so other people can monitor who comes sniffing around?" John asked. It seemed like a bit of a backwards plan to him, but Sherlock’s plans always sounded like that to him.  
Sherlock’s plans never actually sounded like plans, more like poorly planned whims. Even if they were coherent and tightly purposeful in the end. “That’s what his plan sounds like.”

John looked at Seb not sure whether to agree or not.

"Obviously we'll have someone competent as the watcher," Sherlock said. "Greg...he is not a complete waste of space, and must have some brains if my brother can tolerate him."

Sebastian sat back down beside John, giving Sherlock a dirty look as he did so. “He’s bloody brilliant, and it’s *Gregson*.”

"Greg, Gregson, whoever," Sherlock said diffidently. "Ask him what he thinks when he returns. But Moriarty won't be waiting too long I can guarantee it."

John knew Seb trusted Paul, and he didn't like this whole 'protect John' focus. He understood the logic, but his encounters with Jim made him think logic was thin on the ground. "What do you reckon?"

“I think we’re probably already in the window for an attack,” Seb murmured, leaning into John a little.  
Then it did make sense to go to the place where there was external surveillance already set up. "I guess then Sherlock's place is a better point at the moment," John said reluctantly. "Short of locking me away somewhere completely."

"Oh he'd find you there," Sherlock said confidently.

“Not helping,” Sebastian said firmly. “Let’s pack a go bag, and go, then?"  
John nodded and got up. So much for their re-affirmation of life and being back together. He hoped it wasn't cut short in a more final way.

* * *

Sometimes the only plan was a bad one; sometimes a bad plan was the best they could manage, and he knew that, in his gut, knew he’d been on so many projects that were destined for failure, but it stung that John was being dragged along with that one for his own bloody protection, while they threw theories out into the air.  
Paul had turned up, as predicted just as they were about to move over to Sherlock's place on the other side of the road and wanted to know what the hell they were playing at even as they trekked across to find Mrs. Hudson already bringing the tea up the stairs for them having been told Sherlock was expecting visitors at 12. Sherlock just look smug, and John rolled his eyes. The whole conversation back at their place had been a set up.

“I’m not even sure we consented to this,” Seb admitted, “I think I’ve been steam-rollered. Do you usually feel that with the Holmes’s?”  
John leant over to Seb. "I'm never sure if that is the entire plan he comes up with or just the bit he can be bothered to talk about."

“It’s unfortunately the second one.” There was nowhere comfortable to sit, except closely mushed against John’s side, trying to finish the job of getting his head together so he could maybe put an end to the current threat.

"I suggest that Gregson is a body guard for John." Sherlock said. "And we flush out Moriarty."

"We have two assumptions. Moriarty will try and force you to engage with him Sherlock," Paul said. "If refusal is a possibility I would refuse."

"Don't be ridiculous of course it won't be a possibility," Sherlock said sounding bored. "But he will expect John to be with me. Not Sebastian."

"True, but that will produce 2 possible responses when he realizes. Come after John or go after Seb," Paul said.

“Three - both,” Sebastian offered, leaning his shoulder against John a little more. “Which is that you need to stay with John, Paul.”

"I would suggest you should, but this will force him to split his attention and he might get sloppy if he has to improvise," Paul said. He grimaced a little. "He does like to improvise though... and is good at it, but that is how Mycroft has thwarted some of his schemes in the past."

"Forced him into a point of unstable mania," Sherlock mused his eyes bright. "He is brilliant though."

He’d seen that mania. He’d seen that mania and Jim lost himself in it and loved it. “Then we need a way to bait him that’s irresistibly excitable,” Sebastian offered. “And he’s set up this sniper for me to deal with."

If John sat there placidly and played to not interact, he’d be less interesting. Or more interesting because Jim wouldn’t buy it. “Look like you’re being kept here.”

"You don't leave Sherlock's apartment," Paul said flatly. "That will either force him to try and come in to try and get you...and I'll be ready for that." He grinned slightly. "I know my way around this place. On this turf, I stand a chance of taking him down." 

“And it’s defensible.” And their flat was more of a snipers’ nest for relaxation. Sebastian rubbed at his own temple. “And you’re damn well going to keep John safe, and I know you’re, you don’t need protection.”

"Relax, I will. John will also be carrying his gun even if makes a cup of tea.“ Paul said. "I've put in a call for a tea, they will be patrolling the immediate area as well. Now, you have your ops kit? When this kicks off he'll keep everything rolling." He limped slightly as he moved to reach for his laptop to set up an ops point in the kitchen.

“Ready to go,” he confirmed, trying to read John’s expressions about it all.

"Good." Paul was moving efficiently, Sherlock was sprawled in a seat eyes closed thinking, and John just sighed. "I'll make tea then," he said and Seb would have had to have been deaf not to hear that this rankled for John.

He waited for John to get up, and got up when he did, just to talk, because he couldn’t pretend everything was fine. “So.”

"Tea or coffee," John said blandly, not looking at him as the kettle began to boil.

“You not being pissed off at me,” he requested instead.

"I'm not being pissed off at you," John said in a low voice. "I'm pissed off but not at you."

“We need to give him two sets of bait to go after,” Sebastian murmured, leaning in more. “And I know Sherlock has something else in mind.”

"I get it. I see the logic I'm just..." John's focused moving of the cups was a giveaway. "If the positions were reversed and you were the Disney princess of this plan what would you be thinking?”

It had been the original plan of course. “I’d be pissed. I’d be so fucking pissed, John. You’re not a Disney princess, you nearly got Paul and I out of there.”

"Nearly. It's all.. nearly. You're the ones who rescued yourselves," John glared at the boiling kettle. "And now, again you're rescuing me."

“It’s not you we’re rescuing. It’s all of us.”

"It's always the goddam way though," John said. "Same when we escaped. I was fucking dead weight."

“On what planet were you dead weight, John? I was completely fucking useless,” he countered. “Couldn’t plan, couldn’t think.”

"You drove us out of there with your eye out Seb," John said passing over a cup. "I hate being helpless. I'm a doctor."

“You’re not helpless. Odds are, this place is going to come under attack. And you really think I expect you to sit on the sofa and quiver?” He took the cup, taking a sip of it.  
"I know. I just don't like it." John grimaced again. "We've got out of things together before."

“Maybe we should ditch these two schemers and see what we can come up with ourselves.” It was when they did best, Sebastian knew. They played well off each other.

"If I knew where he was I'd put a goddam bullet in his brain," John said. "If only because of what he did to you." Frustrated. John was frustrated and wound up, and the adrenalin was kicking in.

And there was nowhere useful for it to go. Sebastian reached out to touch his arm. “And he stalked us at my sister’s. This is escalating, and it’s going to end very badly very quickly if we don’t do something about it.”

"I know." John said, At least he didn't pull away. "I just don't like it but I know there is nothing I can do about it."

“You’ll fight like hell when it comes to it,” he countered. “That isn’t nothing."

"If you get yourself killed Seb, I'll resuscitate you and kill you myself," he said with a fierce look in his eye.

It was less of a joke than either of them needed, but he took it for the spirit that John meant it, and leaned in to half hug him because it felt good. “I want to live."

"Good," John murmured and kissed him lightly as if a bit worried to be doing it in someone elses house. "Go take Paul his tea."

“Right. And you and I will pick up where we were after this.” Because there was going to be an after.

John nodded. "Yeah, we will," he said and gave a quirk of a smile. 

Paul was hooking up a headset as he looked at the laptop that was obviously streaming something. He also had a big duffel bag full of equipment.

“So now it’s a waiting game,” Sebastian murmured.

It would have been timing for something to have happened there and then, but it didn't. It was about an hour later, after a couple of cups of tea, a sandwich and John trying his best to be okay about the whole thing.

John was clearly not okay with it, but he was trying and there was a lot Sebastian could say in favor of that, because he couldn’t make John not feel like a Disney princess if that was what he felt like.

The discovery of a severed head in Sherlock's fridge had entertained them for a bit, partly in mystified horror and amazement when Sherlock informed them he was using it to study coagulation of saliva after death. He heard John bickering with Sherlock in a familiar way and eventually strangely it was a phone call from Lestrade to Sherlock that triggered action.

"Finally! He has made his move. Lestrade has a letter addressed to me that turned up in his department."

“And off we go.” Sebastian didn’t want to, though. It was clearly John’s place, and he knew he’d feel awkward going out because he wouldn’t provide whatever it was Sherlock got out of John being there.

"Watch your back Last," Paul said. "John and I will be ready if they double back. And hold on to that transmitter."

“Might’ve sewn it into me instead,” Seb quipped, leaning in to give John a quick kiss and a hug. “And they’re going to double back."

John kissed him back. "Try not to shoot Sherlock...he'll probably deserve it but we need him for the plan."

"Ridiculous!" Sherlock said. "Hurry up. I thought you’d at least move faster than John.”

Sebastian grabbed his own smaller shoulder bag, with a broken down sniper rifle tucked inside, and pulled away. “Promise not to. Let’s go. I’m driving, I assume?"

"Of course,” Sherlock said and whirled out the door dramatically. "The game's afoot!"

There wasn't much he could say to that aside from hearing the snorting stifled sounds of amusement behind him from John and Paul as he followed Sherlock with much less drama down the stairs and out to run whatever rat run maze Jim had devised.

* * *

It wasn’t sitting well with him at all. He wanted to be out there with Sherlock and Sebastian *didn’t *. and they were ‘this close’ to killing each other, he could tell. Sherlock had started to text him as well.  
They were frequently rude or bitingly funny or random. But it would seem that Carl Powers had been defeated, captured or whatever. A mad bomber had been thwarted, but now there was another hostage. And Mycroft was texting him as well.

"This is getting ridiculous," John said as his phone beeped again.

“You’re the nexus of attention,” Paul mused, checking his monitoring gear. “Huh."

"What?" John said shaking his head. Why Mycroft thought he could stop Seb from...well being Seb, he didn't know. Just because his methods were more direct in assisting Sherlock than his might have been. He mentally focused on where his gun was. He could reach it in a couple of steps.

“Huh, there’s movement. Do you usually get a lot of foot traffic this time of day?” Paul gestured him over toward his screen.

"Not really. Just a few," John replied. "There is the cafe down there." He could hear the crackle of one of Paul's team contacting him over the radio.

Paul reached out for his radio. “Fuck me, grab your gun, those aren’t all here for the coffee.”  
He was almost eager for it, and then they heard noise coming up the stairs. Paul gestured him to fall back to face the door, and John knew his moment was about to blow up in his face.  
How are we doing it  
He was ready, lined up .Fuck it. If it was Jim the bastard was getting a bullet in the head.

"Boys? I've brought you some tea." Mrs. Hudson’s voice said outside the door.

Oh god. John lowered the gun, but didn’t let it go, as Paul seemed to be eyeing the silhouette behind the glass. “All right, come in."

"Here we go dear... Oh it's Mr. Gregson isn't it? Lovely to meet you. There's some cake as well," she said smiling.

"Sorry, we're a bit on edge Mrs. Hudson,” he said relaxing a little.

"Oh it is one of those days isn't it? I went to put the rubbish out and I'm afraid there were a couple people doing something very...unsavory in the alley," Mrs. Hudson disapproved as she set the tray down. "They just ignored me. You would think they'd have some shame."

“Unsavory how?” Paul asked, looking thoughtful.

"Oh you know.." she said. "...unsavory. All over each other." It wasn't a normal place for that sort of thing.

John frowned a bit. "That's unusual...did you get a look at them."

“Anything?” Paul tipped his head slightly, waiting and watching her reactions. “Here, come inside for a moment.”

"Why, do you think we should report them?" Mrs. Hudson said concerned. "I couldn't see their faces, but they were kissing."

“I’m looking for them Mrs Hudson, it’s not *safe* right now,” he insisted. “We’re the last people to report anyone for kissing.”

"Oh dear." She looked worried. "Well they were still there when I left a few minutes go.”

"Should we go and have a look?" John suggested, chafing a little.

“Ah, no, we’ll…” Just ignore it, but that was bad, but then again. They were waiting for John to be taken alive, weren’t they? Because that was the game. Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, and started toward the door. “I’ll be right back."

"Paul...watch it out there," John warned. "If it is a trap..."

"Oh dear..." Mrs Hudson said. "Should I call the police?"

“Not really something I want a local cop shot to get involved with,” Paul shrugged, heading down the stairs at a good speed.

Which meant he was meant to stay behind. John grimaced and headed to the laptop, picking up the headset to listen in...and immediately realized that Paul had been putting up a good smoke screen of not appear too concerned, because he would have been shitting bricks. The radio chatter indicated at least 3 of the team were not responding to radio hails, their feed had gone down and... okay, this really was getting serious.

"Mrs Hudson? I think maybe you should try and go out...away from the building for a bit?" he said cycling through the screens, seeing static on some and rapid movement on others.

Better away from it all for a while. “I’ll just go and do the shopping, then. If you’re all so…” She waved a hand, and made a whooshing noise, and yes, they were all so whatever that was. Yes.

"Yeah, that would probably be a really good idea." John agreed, hoping that whatever was going on out there was distracting people from normal comings and goings.He could hear Paul's curt efficient instructions over the radio, and reach for his phone. He needed to send a text to Seb, let him know the attack was underway. If his bloody phone would send a goddamn text message.

He typed it out, hit send, and hoped that nothing was jamming the message, blocking it from getting out. After a little delay, he saw a response, “coming back to flat”.

His gun was out, he was twitchy as hell, especially as he heard Paul ordering the rest of the team to fall back to the flat.

That wasn't good. He went to the window as discretely as he could to try and peer into the street; saw someone running up the pavement; saw with disbelief a car gunning it, veering onto the pavement as if *trying* to hit them then a godawful bang as it hit something and spu out of control into traffic and the consecutve wall of sounds as it went horribly wrong.  
He culdn't even second guess it...he ran for his medical kit and in a matter f seconds was running down the stairs towards the street.

There was a car accident and someone down there, maybe one of Paul’s team, maybe an innocent pedestrian, was down there hit, and he knew the importance of immediate care. He got down the stairs and out through the front door when everything went to hell, hands grabbing his upper arms.  
Shit, they must have been on their way in as he was coming out. He struck out the best he could. Baker Street was a disaster zone, fire, smoke, people yelling and no-one able to hear him yelling for help the best he could while struggling hard.  
He twisted and fought, and he managed to get one arm free, wrenching and getting both feet on the ground and nearly swinging free when the cloth slapped over his mouth.  
Bloody fuck, chloroform, stinging in his eyes, trying not to breathe but-

* * *

The text came in after a moment of horrified waiting, a confirmation from John that all was clear. “He says its all clear. Not really sure about that,” Sebastian murmured, glancing over at Holmes, who was pacing the art gallery again.

"Hmm," Sherlock closed his eyes a moment. "If we leave to check now, the next hostage will die before we can reach the final destination...which of course I have deduced from the pattern that has emerged."

There was no bloody pattern he could see. "If we leave now, we might be able to pre-empt the face off. "  
But a hostage would die. “Case, case, bugger, work the case.” He gestured sharply back at Sherlock, and stared at his phone, trying to work out a response that would help him come to a better decision than ..Oh fuck it, fuck everything….  
"If Moriarty has gone after Baker Street then our only hope of getting ahead of him is to head to our next destination," Sherlock said starting to move. He actually look...something. Worried or angry, it was difficult to tell.

“And we just let the hostage die? Can’t you just solve it already and…?” Sebastian gestured to the fucking painting that they’d already done so much running down on.

"We can stop the hostage from dying by intercepting the kill signal. Lestrade can locate them from their immediate peril," Sherlock said heading to the car. "Now we’done the hard work. This is the one move he will not expect."  
“What’s the kill signal?” Sebastian hissed, following after the man because shit, that felt like it was all he’d done. He was starting to understand by John was so sensitive to it.

"Moriarty likes to kill or have other people kill for him. The point is he issues the order, he instigates the moment. We find him, we stop that point," Sherlock said sounding impatient. "It's ridiculously simple. These hostages are not important to him as people, just as pawns in the game. We threaten the king direct, he will ignore the pawns. Until now, the pattern was not clear ...now it is. I know where he is setting up the next challenge. Therefore, if we drop the pawn, go for the king while he is off guard... simple."

He played it out in his head, and then just nodded, because yeah, fuck it, why not? “Then let’s go there. But I need to know what kind of situation we’re getting into,” Sebastian declared as he unlocked his car with a clicker.

"It a swimming pool. No doubt there would be another hostage. I suspect whoever that is will be being moved into place shortly. Sergei will be there no doubt." Sherlock got inside, fidgeting. "Yes. If I were doing that, I would have a means of covering the area. He will expect us to be coming, but not so soon. You will nullify those around the outside of course. I will enter as if you have decided to go to Baker Street after all and I chose to come alone.“ It was a plan being spun out of thin air, but he'd seen worse.  
Right. Right. Not that bad a plan in the end, as long as it was a plan. “Okay. Okay. Give me the address, tell me what direction to go."

"The Sports center. The swimming pool. It all links in with my first case. Here, I'll put it on the Sat Nav," Sherlock said put the information up rapidly. "He's linking it in with a case of Mycroft’s as well. It's irresistible to him."

“Which case?” He was trying to file information away, trying to get ready for whatever was coming as he pulled away from the curb and started to drive off. He knew where the sports center was, and ah, it was Moriarty’s first killing hen, wasn’t it? The scene of the first crime, time to reminisce.

"Oh Mycroft has been texting me from his dentist chair all afternoon. The synchronicity of where that one is leading and the drowning... yes." Sherlock looked at his phone again.

Sebastian squared his shoulders off, and settled into a focused feeling, his mouth tight as he started to consider what he knew about the site, and the best angles of attack, the best angles that someone else would’ve already taken up because there was no way that Jim didn’t already have the place rigged to go.  
He knew how the mad little fucker worked, and that was part of the problem. That's why Jim wanted him and was playing these games as much with him as he was Sherlock. It was far enough away he had time to plan his approach. They couldn't be in other buildings, not with the lay out of the pool. They would have to be in the area. Someone would be watching the entrances at least... but if they were watching for Sherlock that was a distraction he could use to get in unseen.

No one was going to be looking for a non-descript fellow in a worn jacket, carrying a knapsack. They’d park and walk up, and he’d come at a side entrance, while Sherlock did whatever it was he was going to do.

It was plausible that he would have left Sherlock to go back to Baker Street. Paul was there, he was handling it but... But it was John. He really didn't know what he would do if something happened to John and he had a gun in his hand.

Someone was surely going to die, and he didn’t give a shit. He drove with care, and pulled up, parked and disconnected from whatever Sherlock was doing. They have two paths, and he knew that his was to go to the boot of his car and get his guns.

"You need how long?" Sherlock asked checking his watch glancing at him as they both got out the car.

“Five minutes.”

He shouldered it, checked for Sherlock’s nod of assent, and moved to head out.

"Starting now," Sherlock said and glanced around and then half jogged away, to make a more public approach to the Sports center on foot. Seb on the other hand found all his skills coming into focus. It felt like instinct to spot the likely points of weakness.

It was like shrugging on an old skin, comforting as he headed off at a hard pace to the building, dropped in against a wall and moved for any open door, looking for someone to attack, someone who wanted to stop him.

He caught the barest gleam of light on a muzzle and was in motion to avoid even as it gave a soft spit of a bullet through the silencer. Sergei’s men were good, but not good enough. He knew how they worked from the Northstar debacle. That was the problem with rifles, this sort of hand to hand was not possible unless you were using the rifle as something bludgeoning.

Which he did, using the delay between shots to whip his gun around and crack the man soundly at the base of his neck, a little to the side, so he had to flip it around and pull the trigger once. It felt good, though, smooth, and the dark was his friend.

It had always been easy, this part for him. He was like a goddamn tiger, all instinct and silent death. Paul had said this was his genius, not the convoluted plans of the Holmes but this quick, sharp kill or be killed. Even so, he came too close when another tried to tackle him on his blindside.

Literal fucking blind side, and he ended up shooting the man messy in the chest cavity, though at that range there was no question that he blew his useful parts out.

How many was that? He'd been in five minutes and he had taken down five. But where the hell was six? He had nearly circled the place. Sherlock was inside and he could see from where he was, see down into the pool area and hear as a familiar voice echoed. John?

No, no, he needed to look up and out, up and out, look for a direction, look for where the man might be. Sherlock would have his back to then, the entrance was over that way, and he started to jog quietly because it would be way up, sharp angle, good sweep of the entire pool area.

Dominate the space, he could address what was going on with John, why John was out there, and he wound his way up, searching for a service access, a ladder up to the HVAC for repairs and a man leaning in through the skylight dominating the space.

The angle of shot wasn't clean up through the skylight into the area. The rifle dominated the space with the shooter set back. No time for fancy, just a reach up and yank on the gun from beneath to half pull him through the small space.

And then he shot him point blank in the face and struggled to keep him from falling down. It was almost laughable, trying to keep a body from doing what bodies do when they were dead.  
Jesus, he didn't want the corpse falling down into the pool. That would give away where he was. Time to maneuver to where John was. He allowed himself to focus, ignoring the blood on him, the stench of death up close and personal to him.

And John was saying in an awkward stilted fashion "What would you like me to make him say next?"  
Not him. Not him, rigged up just like all the other bombing victims, except it was *John*. He needed to work out how to, how to unrig him, maybe, or find Moriarty, moving through the darkness, and knowing that the area was safe except *of* him.

"Nice touch this, the pool where Carl died," John narrated. He looked pale and there was bruising on his face as Sherlock faced him. Jim would be close, Jim would be near somewhere, listening and finding this whole thing hilarious. "I stopped him. I could stop John Watson too. I could stop you."

"I know who you are, this facade is useless," Sherlock called out. "Richard Brook, just another mask like Jim Moriarty. Neither is real."

He moved to take a lower position, but still something of an overwatch, and pulled his rifle out again, crouching and ready to strike.

“So smart,” Richard chortled, coming out from around a corner, the dressing rooms. All dandied up as well, silk and clean looking. His gait was still off, just a little, hint of the prosthetic. “Congratulations, Sherlock.”

Sherlock nodded. "John are you all right?"

John had obviously been told not to say anything. "Speak John, speak...there's a good boy," Jim mocked him.

"I'm fine," John said through gritted teeth.

The epitome of not-fine. Sebastian settled, kept watching open eyed and not behind the scope because he needed to keep three figures in the shot and not one and Christ, he missing having two eyes. “Isn’t he sweet? Like a, he’s like a pocket puppy!”

"Has this all been about that or have you just been...flirting?" Sherlock asked holding a gun on Moriarty, and he was probably trying to see if he was holding a dead man’s switch like he was.

“Oooo, I’m scared. Did you not like my flirting, Sherlock? You came to a solution on so many cases, so quick to see the flaw in my fixes.” Purposeful flaws, flaws he’d planted there to be found.

"You asked for the missile plans. Here they are." Sherlock said. "Take them. That's what you want. Pay off Sergei and let him go." 

Jim took the flash drive smirking at Sherlock. "Could have got them anywhere." And it was then, unexpectedly that John lunged at Jim gripping hold of him hard, his expression one that Seb recognized from Afghanistan. Sure of death, but determined to let someone else survive. "Run Sherlock!"

Not that Sherlock was going to run, and John was latched onto Jim for all he could manage, tight as anything, while Sebastian lowered his head and prepared to take on the now obvious roll Jim’s overwatch. Except, not, not now. Not ever. THe man chortled, truly delighted. “Oh, you’ve got some fight in you still!”

It seemed to set him off balance, and he staggered for a moment, while Sebastian flipped on his laser.

"Go Sherlock," John ordered again.

"Oh I think you might have shown your hand John," Jim murmured. "Does Seb know about your man-crush? What would he say if he knew you were sacrificing your life for Sherlock Holmes?"

"He'd know why." John answered, still gripping Jim.

Because that was John, that was what he did and who he was. He shifted his targeting, let the laser dance idly over the face of Jim, Richard, whoever the fuck he was.

For the briefest of moment he saw surprise on his expression melt into delight as he looked up, unerringly calculating the angle and source of the laser pointer. "Well well, the gang’s all here. Well except for Paul, who’s under a car in Baker Street but we can't have everything."

Oh fuck. Though that did explain how John was there. So much delight for a man who was under so much threat. Sherlock was armed, John was wrapped up in a bomb, and Sebastian had a sniper scope on him, and the man was purely gleeful. Something was off, something was….

“Your move.”

"My move?" Jim grinned manically, holding up his phone. "If I don't key in a code every few minutes, Johnny boy explodes. And I guess we do too. No blowing out my brains Seb, not even Sherlock can break my code that quickly."

Dead man’s switch without a button. He kept the gun aimed, didn’t waiver, but waited. It was an odd tableau where Jim still kept control through threats alone. “Well,” Sherlock murmured, “we’re at a standstill.”

"Oh you could shoot if you wanted. I'd be surprised and just a teensy bit disappointed," Jim said. "And dead of course but so would you. Wouldn't that be nice? Surely it would be preferable to part on better terms."

“All of this and we just walk away?” Seb felt strained, unwilling to trust, to let it happen, but John seemed to be loosening his hold on Jim by fractions.

"Well it's either that or an orgy but we all know what Sherlock's nickname is don' t we? Jim replied stepping away from John who seemed to be backing off.

"Disable the trigger, and we'll back off." Sherlock said. "And have you shoot me? Tsk, tsk... let's see... Sebastian should drop his gun in the pool and I'll allow him to get the jacket off of John," Jim negotiated calmly.

“Or I drop the gun and you trigger it,” Sebastian countered, but he didn’t have much choice, and more than one gun. It would just take a delay. 

"I could do that now. Do you want me to take him with me?" Jim said with a smile that was disturbing. "He has given me the best surprise of the day so far, I don't want to kill him." It was possible he was stalling for reinforcements. That was the sort of tactic he would do.

Sebastian hesitated, and then leaned out from his perch and dropped the rifle into the pool with a loud splash, then stuck his hands out so they could be seen. “Happy?"

"Delighted. Sherlock won't shoot me, so I will say farewell for now... ta ta!" Jim said almost sauntering away from them as if sure no one would kill him.

And, he couldn’t, not until John was safe, so he bolted for the stairs, hoping to get down there and apprehend the shit, or help John, knowing that Sherlock would do the same.

Sherlock practically pounced on John, ripping the bomb jacket off of him, tossing it along the ground. 

"Jesus..." John said sounding shaky. "We need to get out of here, he could still trigger it!"

Seb jogged out of the stairwell, toward John. “Move, move, let’s get out of here…”

There was the beep of a text, one two three...in each of their pockets. He glanced at the screen to see the message " Time to dance!" on it just as John's phone started to ring with a ring tone of Boom, Boom shake the room in an incomprehensibly upbeat fashion compared to the expression on Sherlock’s face.In the same instant he bellowed "Pool!" already moving.

They scrambled hard for the pool, and he knew John would move, move so damn fast, so when he jumped into the pool, diving as fast as he could, he knew John would be with him.

Even as he went under the surface, his good eye caught the distorted flash of light and then it was like the water became a huge encompassing giant fist that was crushing in pressure. Then things started piercing through the water, falling, crashing down on them.

He hoped there was air to swim up to, that there was something to breathe and that they didn’t drown, but it was better than nothing, and he twisted, looking for familiar hints of shape before everything went dark and it was just a struggle to find up.

His hands were groping in the darkness, trying to ignore the impacts and his hands touched and flinched instinctively from floating hair, then heavy wool under fingertips. John.

John. He pulled at him, still trying to find fucking *up* in the darkness and that was going to be a horrible fucking way to die, because the stillness of the pool was ruined and he couldn’t be sure. They were heading up for heat, though, and heat meant surface.

They had to risk it, they needed air. Air, air, air..fuck. He broke the surface and the breath he sucked in was thick with smoke and dust. He could hear John cough and retch almost. "You..okay?"

“Oh, fuck, oh…” He sucked in dirty air, but at least it was air, and they needed to get out before things collapsed on them, or, or…

"Sherlock?" John half gasped even as gobbets of fiery material dropped from what was left of the roof. They sizzled in the water around him.

He blinked his eye hard, glanced around, and then dove back down into the water to look for the over-dressed bastard who, even with his remarkable intellect, would need fucking air eventually.

Too bloody dark in the water, and when he resurfaced John was splashing and failing to move a lump in the water. "Bloody hell..the bloody coat will be the death of him..." John gasped.

He swam over to him, pulling at the thick fabric and trying to get the man on his back at least. "Christ..."

He managed to turn him, looking for signs of life. "Get him..get him to the side Seb," John said dragging himself out a bit like a stranded fish.

He struggled forward, but fighting his own clothing was easy and he had the strength. There were pieces of the places that had collapsed, bits that were still burning, and he steered quickly towards just a vacant spot.

Between the two of them they got him out on the side and John was immediately in doctor mode, ignoring the blood dribbling from his own head, feeling for a pulse, finding something going for tilting Sherlock’s head back, giving him mouth to mouth.

Sebastian eased back, surveying the scene, looking for Jim or another incoming attack, because he was no help to John just then except to protect him.

It didn't take long before Sherlock coughed up water and then retched up more and John rolled him onto his side. "Moriarty?" was his first word.

“Gone. We need to vacate the premises.” There were sirens outside, now that his ears had cleared from the concussive explosion, and that was oddly baffling. Then again, a public pool had just blown up. 

And he’d killed six men. Fuck.

"Last?" There was a rough voice from somewhere over in the darkness. "Come on you tall lanky bastard, I shall be really pissed if you're dead..."

“Saint? Saint!” He struggled to his feet, only half aware that he’d been kneeling until then. “All accounted for.”

"Thank fuck for that. Mycroft would be unbearable if Sherlock carked it," Paul limped in, gun in hand.

"As ever, I hate to disappoint,“ Sherlock said in a raspy tone. "Moriarty said you were under a car."

"Well, yeah, more like I went through the windscreen and got stuck inside," Paul said diffidently. "Just as well, I dropped Moriarty just after he detonated the place. In his good leg."

“You shot him?” Sebastian had wanted to do that, and he felt incredulous. “Did he get away, or…?”

"Mycroft has him," Paul said. "Bastard was too busy cackling and watching the explosion and I just took a shot. Luckily, Mycroft sent in a Swat team...calling it a terrorist attack, he'll spin something. Let's get out of here. Don't know about you, but I ducked out of the back of an ambulance to get here."

John was just slumped shaking his head a little.

Seb leaned in, put a hand on John’s shoulder, and waited for some kind of body sign permission to help haul him up. They were soaking wet and his head felt like it was ringing and he didn’t know what had happened with John. “Home?"

"We need to get checked out. You're bleeding. But yeah, home," he said wearily.

"Moriarty will escape...at some point," Sherlock said coughing. “Not today... let’s get to medical attention," John said firmly.

“Okay.” He wasn’t going to fight it, and helped John up, moving to slide an arm around him.

They staggered off, tripping over debris, half choking and grimacing as they got out. The paramedics were on the scene even as they got out. Once out in the light, it became apparent that actually they were probably worse off than each of them thought.

Adrenaline could take him a lot further than any of them were comfortable, that they were all past a point of good. John looked pale and shocky, and it was hard to tell where he was injured under his coat, wet and heavy. He had wet in his good eye, and Sherlock was deeply unsteady. 

Paul was limping badly and favoring his side for all he was taking charge. And bloody Mycroft was there, looking a little swollen around the jaw so Sherlock’s deduction about the dentist had been on the money.

"Report Gregson," he said tersely.

"Terrorist unit cornered and eliminated," Paul said glibly. "My… team took them down. They have sustained casualties. "

"You were bloody lucky it wasn't fatalities,” John muttered.

“That we know of.” Sebastian agreed, lingering and wiping at the edges of his eye and fuck, that was blood. Nice. There were ambulances, and he edged John in closer to one to get him seen to first. 

"Moriarty is secured," Mycroft said frowning a little as he looked at his brother. "Really Sherlock, couldn't you think of a better way to get out of the situation.” That was probably about as close to concern as he could get.

It was surreal, and Sebastian couldn’t quite bother to process it, looking at John, studying his face. Bruised and pale, not good, not healthy, and he let John talk to the paramedic without listening, just watching.

“He’s been in a hostage situation.” Sebastian offered quietly, and he kept lingering, finally shrugging out of his heavy jacket.

How long had Moriarty had him before they caught up with him? It was something John was definitely avoiding. "It's not bad." John replied. 

"You should all go to hospital," the paramedic said.

“Okay. Will you take us there?” Sebastian wasn’t going to let John argue. “Shit, a bloody tiny infection nearly killed me, I don’t want to risk you.”

"We'll get you transported," he said replied nodding. "We have another vehicle en route. We can take the both of you."

"That's good. Sooner we're in, sooner we get to go home,” John said.

“Yeah.” Sebastian was going to not let John out of his sight, because that, that was where it had all gone wrong. Letting John out of his sight.

* * *

It was kind of Mycroft, in a way, and it was good that it felt like a refuge, their flat, but it was a relief to just be the two of them, safe and alone. Just them.  
Aside from the fact that Seb was giving him looks and he couldn't really get away from the fact that they had just slept together and nothing else since it had all happened because… well because.  
  
Because. Because Seb was attuned and he could guess what had happened, but they hadn't talked about it. And now, now it was a big thing that they still hadn’t talked about. “Hey. You gunna come sit with me?”

Stress. Everything was stress, and Seb’s face lit up when he moved to sit down beside him, smile curling up slow and comfortable. “I know this has fucking been awful.”

"Paul was a great house guest," John said. He really was. Seb had been grouchy with him for letting John be taken, and John had ended up defending him which was a definite about face in his opinions. 

"I'm glad you are getting on better," Seb replied and John was aware that the connection with Paul and the work they did allowed Seb to still feel he was useful.

"I'm over the jealousy thing," John said deliberately avoiding other topics of conversation.

"Not that there was anything to be jealous about," Seb answered with a faint shrug. 

"Well he is still pretty hot," John said without thinking and then tried to change the subject again. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" It was so bloody transparent, but it was like he couldn't stop himself.

"I want you to just sit down and keep walking away John," Seb asked almost plaintively and it was that which stopped him.

John exhaled. "Okay. Okay, sitting." he said and grimaced. He knew Seb would pin him down at some point and his attempts to avoid the proverbial elephant in the room had become laughable.

"We haven't really talked about what.. Jim did," Seb half stated, half queried.

No, we haven't," John answered. "That's because there's nothing much to say." There really wasn't. Jim was…Jim. He could screw with someone's head in a matter of minutes if he wanted to and he'd been there longer than that.

"There's something to say though," Seb answered looking at him, and having to tutn right round to get him in his visual field.

“I told you what happened,” he offered slowly.

“Sitting on it... Doesn’t help.”

"Neither would talking about it," John answered. "You'd get pissed and upset about something you can't do anything about.”

“I don’t know what to do, if I don’t know what happened.” Except there was nothing to do. 

"What do you think happen?" John said in a resigned tone. "I'll tell you something... I don't fucking KNOW what happened for most of it.

“Okay.” Seb leaned in, kept watching John with care. “I’d guessed. That’s what he likes to do. Just, I want to help you.”

"How? I don't even know what really happened," John said. That bothered him more in some ways than what Moriarty made him do afterward. And he was being a bastard about it. "Sorry Seb, I... I don’t know how to deal with it."

“There isn’t an instruction book. Just however you want to deal with it.” Seb was holding still, careful. Like he was expecting John to maybe have a bad reaction.

"How have you dealt with it?" he asked eventually. He really wasn't sure what he should be doing. It bothered him, being that helpless, unconscious for fucks sake, then hearing all of Moriarty’s lies, or heaven for bid truths

Maybe truths. “Dunno. Not well, I guess? I did a lot of bad choices consentingly. Agreeing to it makes this…complicated.” Seb shrugged. “I don’t have any words of wisdom.”

"Yeah but the consenting stuff isn't the same," John said. "I know we've talked about it a little before but..." It was difficult to explain. "I guess it is because I trust you... somethings like Germany was good because you were there."

“Germany was great, because I trust you. You want things like that with people you trust. And you never want them with fuckers like Jim, because he’s playing some shit game or another, or you didn’t even say yes.” And it was that in both cases. He shifted, pulled at John carefully.

John eased over to be half slumped onto Seb. "Things are just... crazy. We...I wanted to talk over stuff when you got back from your mission." He'd been jealous of Paul, missing Seb, then terrified when Seb had not come back and it had disappeared in the events that followed.

"I don't know where we'd start." But they needed to, because they were both kinds of messes, and things weren't at ease.

"I'm an idiot," John murmured. "I was… insecure I guess about you and Paul and we had that stupid argument and then I thought I wasn't going to get the chance to put it right."

"You're not an idiot." Seb shifted his hand, pulled John in just a little closer. "But Paul and I are colleagues. You don't need to worry about him."

"I know... I know. But he is pretty damn hot, and he has that whole super spy thing going on," John shrugged a little. "I know him more now and he nearly got killed trying to protect me." He settled down finding a comfortable spot on Seb's chest. "I felt a bit out classed. I keep trying to help out and...yeah." Seb had rescued them in Afghanistan, he and Seb had rescued themselves, he'd been relegated to the flat and then had to be rescued again. He might as well sell his story rights to Disney right now.

"I can't keep up with Sherlock. At all. You can. I'm pretty sure between the two of us I'm the dumb one in this relationship." Seb curled fingers at the back of his neck, idle petting that felt good.

John laughed. "There is no keeping up with Sherlock," he said and closed his eyes a little. "And there's no way on earth you could be dumb. Unless it is about talking about what you really want... from us. Both of us are at the bottom of the class for that one."

“There’s that.” It was comfortable, peaceful, and the touch was soft, constant, lulling. “No, I couldn’t even keep up - half the time he’d solved whatever was going on before I’d even gleaned what was going on. It wasn’t pretty, and he kept going on about it if John were here."

"And when I am there, he generally ignores me. Or insults me," John sighed. "I think he's a-sexual or something as well. He's definitely not interested in me that way. Also, that was an invitation to tell me stuff by the way."

4

"I know, I was stalling for time," Sebastian dead panned, still twitching his fingers in slow soft motions. "And it didn't work. Jim... Was focused on making me associate seeing you in pain with pleasure."

Oh. Well that made a few comments Jim had said make sense. "Right… Is that something you are interested in?"  


"No. No, I..." He knew what Seb liked, they'd talked about it before. "I like feeling pain. I'd never want to hurt you. When you finally got winged by a bullet and I was allowed to get off, it was a horrifying moment."

John nodded slowly. "Okay. I'm just not sure how to do it right. I see the damage that could be done. I'm willing to try this sort of thing."

The arm still ached, for all the score had not been deep. Still, there was something there he felt compelled to pick at. "Seb, is what we do together enough? I mean, I was worried about that before. I worry that you are just settling for what you think I want."

"I want to do more, sometimes. I know it's hard to not see it as pain and... Fucked up. A good strapping, done right? Feels amazing." His fingers didn't stop moving.

John nodded slowly. "Okay. I'm just not sure how to do it right. I see the damage that could be done. I'm willing to try this sort of thing."

"It's best done in the spirit of fun. I don't need chains and a dungeon. Bed and a belt is pretty damn nice, and I can touch you and you can be maybe more sure that I enjoy it that way?" Sebastian had clearly given it some thought. "I don't want it to be traumatizing for you to do, either."

Just as well. John was pretty sure that he wasn't cut out to be a posturing sort of Dom. "Okay, I could probably manage that. When I've got my head together a bit. Tell me more.”  


"About what I want to do with you when you feel more up to it, or...?"

"Yeah. I want to get the...aftertaste of Moriarty out of my head," John said listening to Seb's heartbeat as he settled down.

Steady, calm, and the fingers kept stroking the back of his neck. "He put me through a lot of pain and stretching and fucking, all focused on you bleeding or dying on screen. While you and Sherlock tried to find us."

That made him reach around to hold Seb tighter to him. "I'm sorry we didn't get there sooner," he murmured. 

"I'm glad you took long enough that he didn't notice me grabbing a bit of metal off the floor," Seb countered.

"I'm glad you've got your wits about you to do that," John said, meaning every word. Seb had a talent for the impossible.

“When you’re being fucked with two sex toys at a time, it’s pretty hard to not think of anything but escape at all costs.”

John winced a little. Moriarty had been thorough. He hope that hadn't been the reason for the pains he had felt when he came around from the drugs. "Not the sort of thing you want,"

“Nah. I mean, it used to be a pretty hot wanking fantasy, done right. Lots of foreplay would be needed to get there.” Sebastian’s heartbeat picked up a little, just a fraction, and he kept touching John’s neck slow and soft.

"But with a lot of foreplay, things would have been different?" John guessed. He could imagine that it might work like that. He liked Seb's strength. Moriarty evidently knew Seb's tastes in general. Perhaps there had been elements of what he was doing that Seb wanted and Moriarty was trying to twist it.

“Things would’ve been different,” Seb confirmed after a moment of quiet. “You, me, bed, a lot of working up to it, maybe one toy. That sort of thing is…” He shifted his hips a little. “A relaxed environment, a safe place, a safe person."

Maybe that was the difference John considered. The person you were doing it with. The same action could be hot or horrifying depending on the circumstance. "Hmm. I think I get what you mean. It's like the shower thing...when you push me up again the wall, it's hot as hell, but wh...if he did, it's not."

Sebastian slid fingers down to the nape of his neck, rubbing gently. "Exactly. It's... Context and trusting and being able to relax. And I know the sounds you're going to make and making you make them is even better."

That was a nice thought and the touch was relaxing. "Okay, what do you want to do with me?" he offered. "I want, really want to be able to give you something no one else could. I'm willing to try the other stuff ...soon, but what do you want to do to me?"

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, and that was all right, a relaxing quiet as they rested. "I want to have you shaking with pleasure. I want to have you begging me to stop because you can't take it anymore, in a good way." 

"Mm." His libido which he thought was pretty much in intensive care seemed to be making a miraculous recovery. "Tell me what you would do?" he murmured. 

"I would start by finding a way to hold you still, that you like. Leather cuffs, or bed sheets maybe. Something for you to hold onto when you want to squirm." The fingers at the nape of his neck slowed slipping beneath his shirt collar. 

John considered the thought of that, the feeling of it. A different feeling to the powerlessness he felt after Jim. He wasn't sure why, but the thought of being at Seb's mercy was definitely awakening a response in him. He loved Seb's strength, always had and this was an extension of it. "Sounding good so far," he murmured. "Go on."

The noise Seb made was encouraged, a low pleased sound in his chest. “Then I have you with your arms loosely held still, and you’re stretched out naked on the bed. I want to touch you all over, kiss that spot behind your ear that makes you squirm, take my time playing with your nipples.”

He could almost instantly feel his nipple tighten at just the thought of it, and could imagine the tingles that would shoot down his spine from his ear. It made him always groan when Seb did that. John shifted a little, aware that hairs had prickled up with arousal.

“I want to touch you and taste you and keep doing that until you’re begging to come.” Fingers left his neck, and shifted to stroke down his side in a slow motion. “I want to feel you shaking, and hear the noises you make when you’re all wound up and want to come.”

"Mm.. that seems..." like something his body was really interested in. "...like something I want to try." He had said before to Seb that he'd enjoyed it when he'd been out with someone who liked to control his orgasm. "Especially if you make sure I can only come when you want me too." He tentatively suggested that feeling almost a blush of embarrassment as he did so. He was usually more composed about the whole thing but feeling as shaky as he had been meant he was a bit less certain.

"You'd only get to come when I felt like letting you have it," Sebastian murmured, pulling a little at the Hem of John's shirt.

Yeah, that sounded good. That sort of helplessness he could deal with and he knew he could trust Seb. Trust with his life and everything else. He smiled and laughed a little into Seb's skin. "My body seems to approve of this."

"And you mind and the rest of you?" Seb asked, voice tipping up in a smile.

"My mind is catching up slowly," John said arching into the fingers. "And there I thought my libido was squashed."

"It just needed space." Sebastian pushed down, more firmly, and john sighed, feeling more into it.

"I've missed you," he murmured. "This...just being together.” It meant everything to holding him together. "This is what you want as well?"

"What, you and me here? Yes. And I want you to feel and relax and just..." He exhaled hard. "I want you. I've missed you."

"You can have me...” John decided spontaneously. "I want to try it..."

"Now?" It wasn't surprise, just a question, firm and calm. "I'd love to."

"Yeah, but like you say, light and.. yeah.." John said feeling a surge of anticipation.

“Light and safe and fun. I like things to be fun. It’s so easy for it to be fun with you.” He shifted, pulling John up with him. “Let’s go to bed."

"Bed it is," John agreed. Some of the oppressive feeling that had paralyzed him had lifted and he felt more focused.  
They got up, that awkward dance of groping and steadying and Sebastian smiling and kissing behind his ear, hands loose at John’s hips so they didn’t trip each other up. 

This was good, familiar and comfortable. Moving together was an art form and they made it to the bed without stressing any more of their various healing scrapes and injuries. 

Just taking the time to undress, in daylight, was nice. To watch Sebastian stretch and pull his shirt off of himself, grinning slyly at John while he unbuckled his belt. 

God he looked good. All lean muscle, the marks of his full on action filled life scattered over his body. Gorgeous. "You are looking good."

"Thanks. I'm feeling better..." He reached over, touched John's shoulder gently, moved to help him get naked, too, even as he squirmed out of his pants. 

He had some residual soreness from where he'd had his stitches out on his arm but most other things had calmed down. He glanced at himself...not a lot of spare fat but not the definition Seb had not by a long shot.

Seb followed his gaze; he did that, looked where people where looking, traced back to pull the thread on what might be going on in their heads. "Don't finish that thought. You're perfect."

John shrugged. "You sure you don't still have that concussion?" he half joked. That had been Seb's main legacy from the encounter at the pool.

"Pretty sure if I get scrambled one more time I'm going to be a drooling mess," Seb murmured, leaning in to kiss him, slow and soft.

"I can't have that," John murmured kissing back. "I'll have to make you wear some sort of a hat. All the time. "

"Padded up sports helmet, like that fucking uh, shit, American comic, doonesbury." Too much time with American troops and too much reading, more than Seb liked to let on to anyone but John and his sister. "But safe in here, with you..." 

"Yeah," John agreed kissing him again. "That's pretty much the only thing I am sure of." He could trust Seb to watch his back, take care of him. 

To smirk and let his fingers linger against a ticklish spot on John’s side in a half suggestive way before he did tickle him.

"Argh!" John flailed a little laughing a little as he tried to wriggle away. "You bastard."

He smiled as he leaned back, letting his hands slow and idle to comforting touches instead. “Mmmhm, so you trust that I’m going to tie you up and not tickle you?"

"Well...that's a good point," John considered. "I trust you to stop tickling before I throw up," he said eventually. "How about that?"  


"Sounds good." He kissed john again, toeing off his shoes.

"You want me on the bed?" John asked. It wasn't a foregone conclusion with them. When his leg was up for it, walls were quite popular.

“Yes. Let’s work through this in just one place. You, me, the bed.” He grinned as he leaned in, to pull slowly at John’s pants. “Comfortable."

"Sounds like you're going to be doing all the hard work," John replied even as he tried stepping out of his pants without falling over.

“Not hard work at all, getting to make you squirm and moan.” Seb moved to pop open his toybox, the small locker where he kept his random *things* that were good for playing when they did play.

He knew he hadn't seen half of what Seb had, or that he had restricted things to the simple. He settled down on the bed and lay there watching what Seb was doing.

He pulled out a few things with care thick leather cuffs, a little rope. Blindfold, tiny careful clips. Nothing that left John unsettled, and Seb wandered away for a moment to the bathroom before coming back with massage oil, the warming kind.

"A massage as well? Things are looking up," John commented feeling a twitch more of interest.

“Let’s start there.” He shook the bottle, like that would help at all and leaned into John with a grin, kissing him again. “On your stomach.”

That was easy enough and he put his arms up to pillow his head on them. "So far this is definitely something I can handle."

Sebastian knelt over his ass, and touched his shoulders with warm dry fingers before adding a little oil. “I love how you feel.”

A good massage is nearly as good a sex sometimes," John replied shifting just a little. "Wake me up if I start snoring." 

"I promise to just roll you over and join you in sleep," Seb agreed, drizzling a little oil over his spine. The motion of hands on skin quickly made it warm, a vague cinnamon smell in the air. 

It had good sense memories for them both and it was easy to call up those recollections as he felt Seb's hands glide over his skin. He couldn't help making the odd muffled groan and noise of appreciation.

Seb paid careful attention to his spine, pressing up from the base to his neck over and over until John felt something relax. "I've been doing some reading. And video watching."

"Mmm?" John made a questioning noise. "About what? And were they videos I would have wanted to see?"

“How to give better backrubs. How to help relieve tension. Very boring technical videos, I can’t remember what this one is called, but you feel so good right now.” Seb shifted his hips, erection pressed up against one of John’s asscheeks.

He'd half expected to be worried about that but instead it set off a warm feeling of contentment. Seb wanted him, was turned on by him and that was good to realize. "Feeling pretty good myself."

“Good. If any of these weird things I’m trying actually doesn’t feel good, please say so, it was youtube roulette.” But it was confidence and calm and Sebastian pressing and rubbing fingers on his back, using the heel of his palm until he felt like pudding. Pudding with a hardon.

"Oh that's good..." he groaned feeling the soreness of stiff muscles starting to unknot. Sebastian kept working at his back until he felt so relaxed and unknotted that turning over seemed like a chore. "And now your other side..."  
John was aware he sort of flopped over rather inelegantly but he was feeling too relaxed to care. He had been tenser than he had thought from the feel of it. His leg had been pretty bad over the last week - bloody psychosomatic response to stress, and hell, he could feel that. There was a deep soreness in the muscles that Seb seemed to be unraveling.

Taking his time, relaxed. He could see that Seb was hard, still wearing his boxer briefs and tenting them.

"Are you sure you're going to have patience for this?" John asked smiling slightly as he relaxed back.

"Left my underwear on to help." He looked up at John with a sly look in his eyes and the edge of a smile as he kept at it. "And this, this just feels damn good."

"I think I'm the one feeling damn good right now.” John tried to eye Seb for signs he was enjoying himself.  
The hard on was a tip off, and the relaxed posture as he slowly rubbed warm fingers over the muscles of John's leg. If the damn pants hadn't been black, he would've been able to tell if Seb was leaking precum or not.  
So far so good. He grinned up at Seb and closed his eyes for a moment just relishing I the feel of what the other man was doing. Focused, easy touching, no pain, all pleasure, and his hands moved from his bad calf to his good calf, and then up to his thighs.

"Now that's more like it," he said cracking open an eye. Seb seemed oddly intent.

Focused, easy touching, no pain, all pleasure, and his hands moved from his bad calf to his good calf, and then up to his thighs.

“Now that's more like it,” he said cracking open an eye. Seb seemed oddly intent. Focused, like he was trying to control himself. "This?" The touch softened, trailed to the inside of his leg.

He exhaled. "God yes." It tingled with sensations that earthed into his cock.

A low, deep turned on feeling that left him aching as Sebastian smiled at him, a slow smirk. "I'm going to get distracted before we get to any of the kinky shit."

"You mean this is not kinky shit?" John drawled unconsciously spreading his legs a little more. "I will be shocked to my core by whatever you will do."

"This is two steps away from rose petals," Sebastian murmured, leaning down to kiss his hip bone, still avoiding John's dick. "And it feels damn good to touch you like this."

"Do you sit around often thinking about doing this?" John said as much to distract himself from getting too keyed up too quickly from what Seb was doing. What he really liked was the evidence that Seb was really getting into this.

"I do. Often," Sebastian admitted, leaning back a little and snagging the cuffs. "It's one of those things I turn around in my head."

That was nice to know and John could feel himself smiling almost instinctively in response to that. "Glad to know that daydreaming about your body doesn't make me weird."

"I'd be kind of sad if you didn't." He stretched, still kneeling, and reaching to cuff John's wrists together gently. "Let's just go with these attached to nothing for a start."

There was not that much restriction. Jim hadn't gone in for that. He'd woken up wired up, and the presence of high explosives next to his vital organs was more limiting than any restraints. They were comfortable cuffs and he settled back. "They feel...nice."

Leather, padded, soft, cuffed together, and he could move his shoulder. "They look good on you. Comfortable?"

"Yeah, they are," he pulled at them a little testing them. The leather creaked a bit but they just felt snug and didn't move. It was an interesting feeling.

It was safe and felt amazing when Sebastian leaned down to finally lick the head of his cock, just his tongue darting out to taste skin.  


He could not believe how sensitised his reactions had become. He nearly yelped at the touch because it sent a jolt of adrenalin through him, a burn that intensified as he instinctively tried to move and could not. He hadn't remembered any of his other dabbling in bondage in the past producing this level of response.

But it was calm, too, and Sebastian scooted down, twisted awkwardly for a moment to take his pants off, hard cock springing free.

"I have to say, I'm really starting to see the attraction," John admitted just ...well, lusting at the sight of Seb. Seeing that body never got old.

"I just want you to lay back and enjoy," Seb reiterated, sliding slick fingers against John's hip.

"I am, I will," John reiterated. Funny how his body seemed to be enjoying being completely open to Seb...where it had not to Jim.

Not too curious a question why that was, but it was good to feel as Sebastian grinned at him and then let his fingers trail up to tweak one nipple. 

"Hey," John said squirming a little. "You're like a bloody great cat Seb," he accused playfully. 

"I promise to not deposit you any dead mice on the front stoop." He stopped tweaking, and circled the finger out wide to tease around it instead, watching both perk up. 

It made them more sensitive, and he shivered. "But how will I know you care if you stop doing that?" 

"Well it's that, or I piss in your shoes. So maybe the little dead animals aren't such a bad thing." He kept up a playful expression, while leaning over to repeat the motion on the other nipple. 

He could reach forward if he tried. "Mmm, well the way that is feeling I'm not sure how long that will be," he said moving a little against the slick hands.

John felt himself relaxing, while feelng a tension in his groin. It really was an odd feeling. He usually didn' have this long to think his way through what they were doing. It was novel.

Relaxing. And Sebastian's smile seemed to be a full body thing, and he teased fingers down again and cupped John's balls.

There was a moment where he automatically wanted to close his legs but stopped that reflex at a twitch. He decided he loved seeing Seb this happy, having so much fun. 

Just exploring, pulling gently, teasing his balls with oil slick hands much as he'd teased around his nipples. 

It was at once wonderful and maddening. He felt himself growing harder.. "Oh ..yeah, seriously...that's really good." 

"I just want to keep you on edge for as long as you can take it. For a good reason." And his hands were more inconvenient to use than actually bound up.

He could reach forward if he tried. "Mmm, well the way that is feeling I'm not sure how long that will be," he said moving a little against the slick hands. 

"No sense in getting a cock ring involved," Sebastian hummed, sliding one hand up to give his dick a firm slow stroke. 

"Aw," John said. "I quite enjoyed that when I was going out with..." He had to tried and recall her name because Seb was distracting him thoroughly with those strokes.

"I can pay attention and stop you from coming." He looked up at John, still grinning and keen eyed, and gave John a firmer, much firmer squeeze down at the base of his cock.

Immediately some of the building arousal dropped back. Seb knew more than he thought about anatomy especially when it came to kink. He groaned a little. "I see what you are saying. Should I start trying to bribe you now to touch me more?"

"I'm going to take my time. No bribes will work." He tilted his head down and started to slow, softly suck on the head of John's dick.

"Not even if I offer to suck your cock with the best blow job you've ever had?" John said trying to restrain his urge to push up.

"Later." It was as detailed and careful a touching as the leg massage had been, sucking and kicks and hit warm engulfment of his dick I to Sebastian's mouth at a pattern that got him close but didn't let him come.

He start making involuntary groans and drawn out moans that he couldn't help. Fuck, Seb was much more patient doing this than with their normal approach to sex. Time started to drift under the complete focus on those sensations.

He relaxed, let go, felt the stop and the start and Sebastian keeping on him the bring, felt the other man's dick drool against his thigh, felt hands sliding over his hips and then back down to play with his balls.

It never stopped and he instinctively tried to move to get the sensations to peak rather than ebbing back. It brought a measure of relief, but them of course he imagined being completely immobilized and right now that seemed a hotter than hell idea. He was just wanting… wanting more of something. Right now everything that brought more sensation was amazing.

Sebastian pushed down on his hip bone firmly, one handed and holding him still while he sucked him harder, giving him more but just not quite enough. So close, though...

He tried saying "Gonna come.” but he wasn't sure what it came out like. It was enough for Seb's mouth to leave him and him to almost thrash around with the need to trigger that reflex. But he couldn't get it and it was driving him crazy.

"Not yet." Sebastian wiped his mouth on his own shoulder, looking flushed and wanting and gorgeous when he licked his lips and leaned back in.

"I'm so damn close Seb," he managed trying to get his breath back. "Let me suck you, let me do something."

"Not yet." He shifted, leaned back in, and started to suck him, messily, wetly that time.  
There was no cessation of simulation and John found himself trying really hard to fuck Seb's mouth while having his legs held still. It was...amazing.  
Sebastian didn't let him move, though, kept him still, and sucked on him sloppily, kept John on the edge until his thighs were shaking.

It reached a point where shouted "Seb!" to beg him to let him come now. It came out as a half name half begging groan.

Sebastian stopped long enough to pull off and utter 'Now', before engulfing his dick down to the root again, wet sucking heat.

It was an indescribable release. His body was shaking from it as he gave in and fell off the knife edge of control easily, coming with force.

Sebastian swallowed, and then eased up, still stroking him loosely as he finished coming, licking and kissing at sensitive skin.

"Oh my god," John groaned. "Okay, I'm into this, it's official. Never had this reaction with anyone else."

Sebastian pulled back, pressed a kiss against his ballsack, and then shifted to stretch out beside John on the bed. "This is how it should be done, I think."

John realized he had been so intrigued he hadn't freaked out having sex as he had worried about. "Fuck. " His heart was starting to calm down a little.

Sebastian patted at John's chest, and then started to idly pick at the wrist cuffs. "Felt good."

"Felt amazing," John agreed. He looked at him expectantly. "What would you like me to do for you? I felt like I had all the fun."

"I had a lot of fun doing all of that." Seb rubbed fingers, still oily, against John's wrists once they were free. His dick was still hard, and it was comfortable laying naked like that.

John flexed his hands and reached over to fondle Seb's dick. "You did seem to be liking it," he commented. "You had a smirk on your face all the time."

"I love watching you squirm and twist and sigh," he murmured, leaning in to kiss John softly. "It's amazing."

"I liked seeing you enjoying yourself, that was a real turn on," John said truthfully. "Mmm." He stroked him gently, hazily.

It was a lot, slow reaction from Sebastian, and he rocked his hips a little. "It doesn't have to be pain."

"No, but I don't mind the restraints being...more," John suggested tentatively. There was some skin to skin oil transfer that made his hand slick enough to move. He was trying to summon the strength to wriggle down and suck Seb off as well.

"We'll do it again. And again. Spread eagled, maybe?" He shifted, reaching to tweak one nipple because he could, John guessed.

His mind drifted to the thought of doing this again but this time with his legs forcibly held apart and his arms outstretched. Seb could potentially do anything, have access and... almost painfully he felt his cock give a twitch of interest. "Fuck yes.."

"Next time." It was more of a promise than a threat, a soft pleased noise as he shifted his hips and his hard dick against John's hip a little.

His hand reached at stroked him again because Seb should get off as well, especially after such a spectacular orgasm as he had managed to give him. "I like the idea of not being able to move and you being able to... do what you want." he admitted. He wasn't sure why Seb wasn’t considering fucking him now. Maybe he was just being cautious and needed an invitation. "You know, I'm perfectly happy if you want to fuck me."

"I'm perfectly content to just relax and think about giving your dick enough time to come back around before I do that," Sebastian murmured, reaching down to stroke loosely at John's dick.

"At least you are thinking about it," John said. "I don't want you missing out." He relaxed a little knowing that Seb at least had plans.

"It's not missing out. I... Like seeing you get off. I love touching you. I don't have to come." There was a pause, and Sebastian leaned up to look at him, grinning.

"But I want you to come," John poked at him. He smiled a little. "Seriously, I really get off on knowing you are getting off on stuff. You not coming makes me feel...like..." He waved a hand slightly unable to articulate the word. Not as strong as failure, but more than just a bit unsettled.

He kissed John, a slow press against his mouth, and pulled back grinning. "I get it. But this was about you."

"I know, and it worked fantastically," John said relaxing again. Seb would do what he wanted and he'd put what he felt out there along with an invitation.  
He stroked John's dick slowly, and shifted down to start kissing his stomach again, grinning. "So let's see if we can get you going for this..."

John chuckled slightly. "One day you're going to realize that you just have to be here to get me going."

"I know, but I like sucking your dick because you taste like soap and warm and John." He was leaning over him again, and John could feel a stirring again.

"That was nearly coherent," John said and the thought that Seb was managing to deal with John's issues with sex resulted in an undignified giggle. 

"I'm shite at dirty talk, huh? Thank Christ for my body, it does the talking for me." He kissed John's belly, and kissed lower again.

"Able to deal with mental screwiness with your sexual magnetism," John grinned to himself. "The NHS would save a fortune in therapy referrals."

"Erectile dysfunction reparative?" Sebastian murmured, kissing at the underside of John's dick.

"I could patent it. Make a fortune. Not have to work and stay in bed forever," John mused able to appreciate the sensation.

He wasn't hard, but it didn't hurt, and he liked how Sebastian wiggled his ass a little, on purpose, grinning at him. "Patent it."

He couldn't help it, he reached down and slapped Seb's ass, mainly to see what the reaction would be. Just enough weight behind it to make it sting.

The reaction was instantaneous and hard to fake, a soft shocked oh, and a look in his eyes that said it had worked. John chuckled again. He could work with that. Seb might think he needed something heavy duty but no, he just needed spice done carefully. "Oh like that is it?" he said smiling.

"I like that." There was a faint flushing john could see, and Sebastian leaned in to tease at his soft cock again.

"You’ve told me but I haven't seen it," he said. "I can see how much you like it. Would you like me to do it again?"

"Yes." It was a drawnout noise, he had only heard Sebastian make under usually more intense situations.

Seb was leaning over him a little and it made his ass a tempting target. John stroked his hand over the skin caressing it and then gave it an even sharper smack.

A soft, lower noise, and Seb had closed his eyes as he kissed at John's dick again.

John rubbed at the skin again, spreading the warmth into the surrounding tissues. "I can feel your cock hardening," John murmured. He wasn't feeling a trigger happy with his cock as he had before. "Has anyone ever done this just so you feel good with it?" 

There was a moment of silence, and then Seb offered, "No. The intent is usually different..." 

"Maybe we could just see if that other intent is necessary for your enjoyment," John murmured. "Before I plan something more thorough for you." 

Or both?" But Seb looked pretty pleased, and his dick was hard and excited by what they were doing, so john was going to continue on in a comfortable form.

"I don't want to humiliate you or anything like that," John said still stroking his ass. "But maybe we could use these cuffs on you. And I'd be willing to bet you've got something better than my hand in that box of yours." 

"Uhm, I have a paddle, and a tawse..." He leaned up a little, a hand on John's hip and looking thoughtful. 

"Do you want to?" John asked wondering what the thoughtfulness was. 

"Yes. If you." He leaned up, over John, to kiss him. "I'd like that a lot." 

"Well I've had a fantastic orgasm, I don't see why you shouldn't as well," he said. "Get out what you want me to use Seb."

"The tawse." He didn't know why Seb had hesitated, but he also hadn't seen it, and Seb moved to retrieve it from the toy box he had. 

It turned out to be a heavy, thick stiff leather...thing. Flexible and heavier than he though as he took it. That really would have a hell of an impact. "You sure? This looks pretty hefty." 

"The heft is in how you use it." Sebastian lingered close as John handled it, watching him.

"Any tips?" Not the edge, he knew that force focused on an edge would break skin. He could flatten a hit, let the force spread. He reached for the cuffs. Seb needed more than he did so behind the back and face down so he could have a good angle.

"Flat, slow, trust that if I'm not enjoying it I'll say?" He shifted, kept close to John, body to body and kissed him again as if to reassure them both.

"I am going to trust that," John said kissing him back. "Okay, on your front. I want to cuff your hands behind you."

"Okay." He shifted, squirmed onto his knees with his shoulders down, and his head turned.

He put the leather cuffs on Seb and clipped them together. He took a moment though to run hands down his spine feeling familiar evidence of scars. "Is that a comfortable position for you?" he asked, flexing the tawse in his hand with its split straps.

Seb's legs were loosely parted, his hips not too high. "Yes. This is good."

"Good." He start stroking the leather over the exposed skin on his ass, then reaching through to run down thighs and nudge at Seb’s balls as he tried to get comfortable with it. Anticipation...he tried to imagine what it might feel like.

Waiting for the first strike and not knowing when it would fall, hard and wanting. He couldn't quite imagine wanting the pain.

His first strike was little more weight than hitting with his hand but it make a surprising loud noise and thud against flesh when he did it.

He made sure to rub the impact site carefully, feeling it warm under his fingers. He chose another spot and put a little more into it, repeating his rubbing in listening to Seb as he continued. After the fourth hit, this time he reached between Seb's legs to fondle his balls. "How is that?"

"Feels warm. Feels good..." It was more of a moan than a coherent reaction, and he was swaying again, squirming.

That mean endorphins were flowing which was good. He smacked the tawse down against an unmarked area of skin again with more force, following up the sharper pain with more fondling of Seb's balls and cock. Then again...and again.

It fell into a litany of surprisingly soft exclamations, until Sebastian was twisting and squirming against the handcuffs, dropping his hips down but canting his ass up, and looking over his shoulder hazily at John. "Fuck, please..."

"Please what Seb?" John asked. Seb’s ass was pleasantly aglow and he licked over one cheek to allow it to cool in strange prickles of sensation. He paused waiting for an answer. Please stop? Please anything?

"Please, more? Feels so good..." He pushed back against John's mouth.

"More it is." He wanted to be careful though, not hit too many times on the same spot. Seb might want more of the same but he needed to think of something else before he caused real damage. Right now he was being careful. Seb's ass was aglow, but he didn't want it black and blue. He opted for holding apart his ass cheeks with one hand and hitting with reduced force over his sensitive hole.

The *noise* he made was great, almost a shivery moan, and one leg twitched in reaction, a spasm of motion.

Useful to know, but he couldn't hit there too often. The skin was very sensitive. He decided to catalogue reactions to different areas. "Okay, on your back now," he said reaching to help pull him over.

He rolled over when John pulled, careful and unballing up his fingers against the small of his back.

"Uhm, anything."

It was good to be able to see Seb's expressions as he started teasing the tawse over the fronts of his legs, and his abdomen. He pushed Seb’s legs apart holding the knees as he made some strikes to the inner thighs, stinging and heavy against taut muscle. Love taps comparatively but he got to watch Seb’s cock react.

He could see it bounce in excited reaction to the taps every couple of strikes brought a bead of pre-cum to the tip. It was harder for Sebastian to hid his reaction, and his thighs seemed so much more sensitive.

He spent a good while raising them to furnace heat and then spent an equal amount of time kissing, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh. Seb's cock looked as swollen and engorged as his skin. He quirked a smile looking at Seb. "Seb, think you can stand being hit on your cock and balls? For everyone you can stand I’ll give you a long hard suck. And if you make it to ten I'll fuck you."

"Oh, please, please, I can do it..." He was squirming, thighs shivering, and it felt good to watch him like that without humiliation, laying on their bed flushed and wanting and safe there with John.

"Okay then.” John took him in hand and gave a short sharp strike against his balls, almost immediately ducking down to suck hard where he had just hit. "Another? Ask me for it if you want it."

"Please hit me again." He was panting, whether from pain or excitement, it was hard to tell.

He repeated the process. A strike, a suck, the question. Again and again, checking each time, making Seb say the words getting progressively more incoherent as they went along. But trying. He was definitely trying to say the words, there wasn't anything in his tone that was concerning, not distress so much as worked up.

At nine strokes, John paused. His sucking and kissing had become lengthier between each stroke and he was considering what to do. "Seb, I'm giving you a choice," he said glancing at his own cock. Hard but not hair trigger yet. "I could ride your cock until you come, and if I haven't, fuck you the rest of the way, or I could just fuck you...which might take some time."

"Yes." His answer was shaky. "Uhm, ride me and then fuck me, please?" He twisted a little, trying to buck up.

John smiled at him. "Well, let’s just make sure we are ready for all eventualities." He got out the lube, rather hastily preparing himself, but taking more time with Seb. The lube no doubt felt like ice on the heated flesh of Seb's cock as he slicked him up. Seb wasn't going to last too long, that was for certain. Especially when he prepared Seb's ass as well. The sounds Seb made then were fantastic as well. He paused though...Seb's arms didn't look that comfortable like that especially if he was going to pound away at him. He wouldn't be able to brace himself. "Turn over a moment, I want to reposition you Seb," he said in a low tone of voice.

He shifted, carefully rolling into his knees and using his shoulder to brace himself. Even with his hands behind his back, Seb was extremely mobile.

He uncuffed Seb’s hands and drew them up, getting him to turn back over again. He fumbled around inside Seb's box and was unsurprised to feel rope in there which allowed him to tether his hands apart to the head of their bed. It took a bit of jury rigging but he managed it. The time he took allowed Seb a little bit of time for the edge to fade off, especially as he made sure to rub the circulation in Seb’s shoulders and arms. "Right...are you ready?" he asked nuzzling Seb's neck and jaw and straddling over his hips.

"Yes..." He shivered at the nuzzling, embraced it and flexed his arms like he meant to get away or move.

John lowered himself carefully onto Seb's somewhat abused cock hissing a little as he did so. "Fuck, that feels good." His leg was going to protest a little and his shoulder but it was worth it. "You can fight it if you want," John said as he got his breath, noting Seb pulling against the cuffs.

Seb shifted, used the leverage of tight arms to dig his heels in and quickly fuck upwards against John.

That felt good, but he wasn't superman to be ready to come twice that quickly. He rose and moved with Seb’s thrashing, his need transmitted through the movement. "That's good Seb, goddamn, yeah...flex those hips."

He had the muscles for it, and the thighs, quickly fucking up into John as fast and hard as he might've if he could've gripped at John's hips to hold him still.

Instead it was John's weight pinning him down, and he was right, Seb was pretty desperate to come now. John just rode him vigorously, pushing through the warning twinges in his leg as he knew it would be over soon."

Sebastian was twisting and moving fast fast fast and enjoying it because he knew that John was enjoying it and he had permission. The gasp, the stuttered groan, and Sebastian shoved his hips up and held them, pulling hard at his arms.

That was the moment he had been waiting for, Seb's expression at that moment was something to memorize and he waited for him to subside, before getting off of him carefully and kissing him as he positioned himself between his legs.

He leaned into the kisses, sighing and lingering against John's mouth between trying to catch his breath. "You feel so good..."

"So do you," John murmured pushing into Seb's ass. He hoped his leg and shoulder would hold out, as he started rocking and then moving faster. "You are gorgeous..."

"Ohhhh, Christ." Sebastian arched, head tipping back as he breathed through the sensation. "You feel so good..."

He kept going, wincing a little as he took weight on his arm, at least until the endorphins kicked in. He could look at Seb's reactions and he'd never seen him so...undone before. Unravelled. It was unbearably sexy. 

He was completely in the moment, unrestrained, bucking up against him in ragged motions, pulling at his arms and trying to use his legs to keep John in closer. 

He was thinking it was impossible for Seb to be able to come again but from the way he was keyed up and reacting, it looked like it was going to happen if he could just keep up the pounding movement. He deliberately pressed down against Seb's shoulder for all his arms were restrained just to emphasise that sense of restriction, and the legs wrapped around him gave him more of a thrust as well. He just kept the movement going, breathing heavily as the exertion continued. 

He just needed to come, just, he was so so close and Seb was gasping, groaning and shoving himself back into John as much as he could, and he was sure Seb was close. 

With a massive effort, he sped up thrusting hard and deep, just going for it. In among his gasps he managed the occassional "Seb..." and eventually, just as he was reaching the limits of what he could do, he had his own second climax with a hoarse shout. 

"Holy crap,," John just about managed to undo Seb's arms before he practically collapsed on top of him. "I think you broke me" 

Sebastian rubbed fingers against John's back, clutching tight to him. "I broke you? You broke me. Fuck. That was amazing." 

"That was okay then? Worked all right without the other element?" John said still feeling the heat off of Seb's skin. He was going to have to put some lotion on that, just to calm it all down. He fumbled randomly towards their bedside drawer. He had some aqueous cream he used to help keep his scar supple. That would do the trick. 

"Umph, hold still, like you like this." He clutched at John, trying to keep him close. "That was amazing." 

"I'm not going anywhere," John said managing to pull the pot out. "I just want to put some lotion on your skin. It'll help settle it down." He reached in for a dollop. "Hold still, it might feel a bit cool, but it absorbs in quickly. Just helps protect the skin." 

"Ohh." Seb sounded surprised, and he laid there while John rubbed it into him, letting his own fingers linger on John's arm. 

John smoothed it into the areas of the thigh, found a wet wipe to clean off the evidence of their enjoyment, and found it oddly therapeutic to just rub in the cool lotion carefully. "There, that's better. I take it people haven't done this sort of thing before?" 

"Never. Which is making me wonder how come I'm considered the kinky expert, but you... Seem to just have this right." He leaned in, kissed John again, lingering and slow. 

"This? This is just common sense," John said. "Perk of having kinky sex with a doctor. I was constantly double checking where I hit and how hard. Ironically, the hits on the sensitive areas around your cock will fade off more rapidly than the others. You have to hit less hard to get a more intense reaction. Believe me, army doctors have a lot to do with soldiers who have inexplicable groin injuries. I think too many bets involved a blokes bollocks in the army." He smiled and kissed Seb back. "Once I could see you were into it...well..." 

"It felt so good. It stings and then turns into this deep sharper burn, and I've never come that hard before." And he was clinging, just a little, in a way that felt good. 

"I'm really glad the humiliation thing isn't necessary because there is no way I could carry that off," John answered. He rolled his shoulder a little. "And it was a bit unplanned...I probably should have put more thought into it." 

"It felt great. It didn't need to be planned." He shifted, and murmured, "bathroom, though, and then I'll bring some water?" 

"Yeah, we ought to clean up a bit," John agreed, going as if to get up. 

"No, no, no need to clean up... I just want to laze here with water."

John was feeling as if he had done a training obstacle course and smiled. "Okay, I'm just going to wait for life to return to my legs and arms. That's my PT done for the month."

"That was amazing." Sebastian was wobbling as he got to his feet, headed for the door. 

John felt slightly heartened by the fact that Seb had been left unsteady as well - it would have been a blow to his pride if Seb had leapt up fresh as a daisy. He felt a bit of post orgasm drowsiness and nearly drifted off as Seb rattled around in their bathroom. 

He came back with water, and passed John the glass while he snugged in close against him. 

"Cuddler," John said finding he was actually really thirsty. "Not too sore?" 

"Feels less warm, very good..." He slung an arm around John's chest. "I feel mellow." 

"Mellow? That's almost unheard of," John teased as he leaned in. "You are definitely okay though? I haven't really done that before and there's a difference between knowing what it does medically and what it feels like." 

"It feels like blood flow gone wild in a good way." He kissed at the side of John's neck. "And soft. I don't know." 

"Mmm." There was no chance on earth he had a third erection in him, not tonight but it still felt good. "I like the fact I've done something for you no one else has before." 

"No emotional pain, and my body feels great." He seemed content to just hold onto John. "And toying with you before that was so good." 

John grinned. "Yeah, that was pretty damn good from my end too," he admitted. "We can definitely do more of that."

"I missed touching you." Seb rubbed his fingers against John's chest.

"Yeah," John smiled. After a night like this it seemed ridiculous to be jealous of Paul, or for Seb to be jealous of Sherlock. This was what he needed - something that proved to him that Seb couldn't be taken away from him. "You can touch me whenever as long as I get to do the same."

"Sounds like a good arrangement." He lazed down, and John felt muzzy after the exertion.

"At least we can relax. Well until Becks decides we should have told her all this up front and Harry passive aggressives me into oblivion," John murmured closing his eyes as he used Seb as a pillow.

"Love you." It was a vague murmur, kissed against his shoulder. 

John smiled against Seb's skin. They didn't really say this sort of thing out loud that often and it was surprising to him what it felt like to him. A sense of completeness and security that they had struggled to piece together after all their trauma. But here and now, he felt it.

"Love you," he murmured back as well.

* * *

His sister was the consummate hostess, and cook. She was like a living spread from the inside of a home and garden magazine, and it made Harry insanely jealous every time she met Becks, in a way that sort of delighted Seb because yeah. He got his kicks where he could when he was helping to move food from point a to point b.

He was lucky; when John had told Harry what had happened it had triggered a truly spectacular passive aggressive snit. It had started on the phone, then progressed to her dropping in to harangue him and then to frequent messages on line. Somehow the only hint of tension John showed was a clenching of his jaw. Becks on the other hand had called him an idiot, thwapped him around the back of the head like she had done when they were kids and then started planning a celebratory barbeque.

His sister knew there was no point in berating him or making a misery of things, and he was grateful for that, grateful that it was an opportunity to bring everyone together in a non-threatening environment

Besides, the food was always amazing. It was possibly that which had lured Pauls' plus one to actually attend. He'd nearly choked when he saw Mycroft turn up, and was mildly surprised when Sherlock actually appeared. It might have been because Lestrade picked him up. John knew him better than he did, but if he could deal with Sherlock, he had to be a cut above average.

John appeared to him, always on his seeing side brandishing a drink. "Beer, cider or wine? Becks has some mystery microbrews over there which apparently she says used to be your favourite."

"Yeah? I used to be head over heels for this barrel aged stout done by this Scottish place..." He leaned in, half hugged John just to say hello. Because he could, really.

"Careful you might spill the… What've you got there any way?" John said not pulling away embarrassed or any of the actions they would have had to do if they had still been in the army.

Now they were private citizens, for good or for ill. "Grilled veg kebab things. Snag one, before I put it on the table."

John did so, "For Harry's benefit? Your sister is a saint."

"I don't think there is a St Becks anywhere that I recall from our catholic school education," Becks said approaching him. "Seb, this is meant to be celebrate the fact you survived being blown up again. Go get yourself some food. And yes it is the stout. Had to send for it especially."

"See? Saint." He leaned in to half hug her, and then rushed to the table to set the veg down before going to do just that. He wanted to get beer, meat, food, and then set up camp in a corner and watch.

"Did I hear you say my name, Last?" Paul said from where he was stocking up a plate full. "This chicken is amazing.”

"He was referring to his sister," John said also piling his plate high. Jeremy was a skilled barbeque, and was imparting his wisdom to Lestrade.

Cops of a feather flocked together... "It works. We call people a saint for a reason. The ribs are excellent as well."

"I've eaten in some fancy restaurants and the food isn't as good as this," Paul said. He was still moving a little gingerly but he bounced back rapidly.

John agreed. "Yeah, how come she can cook like this and you can't?" he said teasing Seb a little.

"She was the responsible one," Sebastian noted, balancing a plate on top of his un opened beer. "And I just caused trouble. I cook a little..."

"Just as well I like trouble," John said with a grin finding one of the patio chairs to slump in. "I haven't seen Harry for a bit...what's your sister done with her?"

"Uhm, don't know, but I know where we can get a barrel of lye if I need to," Seb murmured, grinning at Paul's quick pull of a face while he moved with John.

"Sit down here," John requested looking up at him in way that made his mind drift to other things aside from sunny evenings with food grilling nearby and chilled beer and wine.

Home things, things involving the bed and the sofa and the shower, and just heat, and warmth that made his stomach knot warmly to remember. "Sitting, I'm sitting."

His nephew Tom came running up to him, grabbing his knee. "Uncle Seb, Mr. Sherlock says you got blown up. Mum said you'd had an accident....did you really get blown up?"

"Uhm, it's a bit complicated." He waved a hand from side to side. "But when your father tells you to put your helmet on when you ride your bike, do it, okay? Because I've had a lot of knocks to the head and it's not at all funny like in movies. I got better this time." And the time before and the time before, but he worried about it.

"Uncle John will fix your head," Tom said "Lou says she's going to be a doctor too. I don't think she's smart enough."

“Fixing heads is tough work," John said. "Best to avoid getting hit in the first place."

"Oh, your sister is smart enough," Seb scoffed, reaching out to chuck Tom gently on the shoulder. "And scary. You might not want to say that one out loud."

"She likes Mr. Sherlock. She's following him around," Tom said sounding annoyed. 

John snorted. "Sherlock with kids? That would be worth paying to see."

It sounded like jealousy, and that was hilarious to Seb as he balanced his plate on his knees and looked from John to Sherlock, where he was definitely being stalked by Lou. "You can talk to him, too, if you want."

"What to Sherlock? It's not like he doesn't text me all the time," John replied. "He's been busy anyway, helping out Mycroft." With Moriarty, they all knew that.

They wanted him to stay locked away forever, needed him to stay that way. Sebastian grinned. "I meant Tommy. Or maybe everyone."

John flushed a little. "Okay, I admit it, locum work has not been riveting," he muttered.

Tom on the other hand had already run off "I'm going to see if he wants to play football!"

"Locum work has been boring you to tears," Seb murmured, opening his beer. "So, what do you want to do?"  
"I don't know. I don't think I could keep up with you and Paul," John said. "So, I guess I could do some more freelancing with Sherlock."

"Sherlock would probably like that. And I like it when you're not chewing your leg off in boredom..." He took a sip and sighed, before offering the bottle to John. It was a deep, rich stout with a clean finish, and maybe a suggestion of chocolate. "Try this."

John took a taste and then took a long swig. "That is okay that's bloody good. Got another one there?" he asked. "And that's even if Sherlock wants me around. Mycroft might have got him into government work."

"When hell freezes over." Seb stood up, holding his plate. "I'll snag you one before Paul realizes how good they are and runs off with them."

"I'll be here eating all of the steak," John said taking a mouth full. "We’re going to have to get some of those for home."

It was nice to hear John call it home. It was feeling more like it now.

It was lived in and it was theirs, all marked up and familiar in ways that he hadn't had in a place before. He snagged another beer, and glanced around, looking for his sister.

She was over near Jeremy at the barbeque, keeping a watchful eye on Harry who was talking to Lestrade for some reason. He wasn't sure what those two could have to talk about, but Harry could be lovely when she wanted something.

It was odd, and maybe he could intervene. Or not. Still, he wandered over, and waved at her, Beer still in hand.

"Little brother," she said. "Eaten everything already? I can get Jeremy to do some of the minty lamb loin steaks."

"No, no, just snagged a beer for John and stretching my legs. Amazed how many people you got to turn out."

"Yes, turns out you've got friends and people who give a shit," Becks said. He always found it funny that when they talked together her language degenerated almost instantly unless one of the kids were around. "I was shocked too."

"Well, they are at least people who are willing to celebrate my non-death with food and good beer." It still feels surreal, the whole thing. And the amount of paperwork that had to do to get John and Sherlock covered as government agents working on behalf of the crown to explain the material that had been in Sherlock’s pocket on a flash drive.

Now they had commendations somewhere for thwarting a 'terrorist' attack. "Yeah. So, are you going to come around more often? Sunday dinner is an open invitation to you and John. I just need to know the day before so we can cook more veggies and roast potatoes as you seem to fill up a plate with a ridiculous amount."

"Yeah, seeing as I won't be tracking down an international terrorist group, should do." He smirked, and leaned in to half hug her. And he understood why the James Bond of the books had been a burnt out exhausted asshole all the time, because as good as he and Paul were, it was hardly sustainable for long goes.

"Yeah. Can you keep the 007 stuff to once a fortnight?" Becks said. "Anyway, how's John doing? And you. And remember I can tell when you lie."

"Back on track." He met her eyes, and knew that he was not lying to her when he said it. "Wasn't easy.

"Things were getting tense for a bit....what was that about?" She asked bluntly. She folded her arms as if she was preparing to go sort someone out if they had done something to him. She was a good six inches shorter than him and still ready to go into battle for him. If she'd ever gone military, she would have ended up in command of a fanatical group of troops, who respected the hell out of her. 

Or warlord. A or b. He could see his sister as some Amazonian style warlord. "You remember Richard?"

"The skeevy bastard?" Becks replied frowning a little. "The one in your unit?" Implicitly the 'one you had sex with' shone through in subtext.

"Yeah. The skeevy bastard. Doesn't take rejection well at all, ended up being an international terrorist." Sebastian waved John's unopened beer from side to side. "Blew him up."

"Jesus Seb," Becks stared at him. "He was in your unit. You had a...uh...connection with him. He was jealous of John?"

"Longer story than that, he played me for a long game. Really brilliant, really enjoyed having his fun with both of us. Tried to blow off Paul's leg as well." He turned and glanced over at Paul.

"Okay, I knew there was something off about him but..." Becks shook her head. "So things with John, they're okay?"

"Yeah, they are. Can't imagine life without him." Didn't want to, didn't have to, which was better.

"Good. Does he need the riot act read to him? The don't hurt my brother... one?" she teased.

"John? No, no. John's, no, no, we had mutual crossed wires, but no. It was pretty mundane shit and I." No, he'd probably threatened Jeremy for less, hadn't he?

"And I know you can take a punch in the jaw without a blink, but a nasty word from someone you love will lay you out for months," Becks said bluntly. "I'll corner him latter."

"He was jealous of Paul. It was a..." How did he explain it, when he was awful at that kind of thing? "You remember that buck up and get over your shortcomings speech I gave Jeremy?"

"Oh god...” Becks nearly snorted her drink. "In your full Colonel style, yes. Mind you Paul is pretty damn hot."

"John's hot." It was a lot harder to give that kind of speech to John when he knew Seb as an officer oh so well, knew the bluster involved, and the person behind it, where Jeremy had still bought into it then. "He's also too much like me. It'd be like fucking your brother."

"Argh, Seb," Becks pushed at him. "Really nice guy though...like my brother. So jealousy crisis solved, relationship on track. That's really good. You deserve happiness. And therapy probably but mainly happiness."

He smirked a little, and idly opened the beer he was holding. "Took a weird, weird way of getting there, but here we are."

"Wouldn't be you if it wasn't weird Seb," she said and rolled her eyes. "Wasn't that beer for John?”

"I'm taking it to him." He took a tiny swig though, and turned with a wave to head back toward him. He hasn't solved the mystery of Harry, but he had time, and he was feeling mellow and nostalgic. Nostalgic for stories that could not be said in front of children.

John was trying very hard not to laugh from the looks of it as Sherlock was being followed by 12 year old Louise with slavish devotion. From the sounds of it, he was flummoxed by the fact that his usual techniques of being socially awkward did not get rid of the girl.

"Leave me alone. I don't like people following me," he said grumpily. "Especially children. Loud, irritating children."

"Mr. Sherlock are your autistic? There's a boy at our school with Asperger’s and he sounds a lot like you do,” Louise asked curiously.

John nearly choked on his piece of chicken. "She has a point Sherlock."

"I am obviously not autistic," Sherlock replied. "You don't know what you are talking about."

"Hello hello, I was coming over to rescue Louise, but now I see she doesn't need it..." He offered John his beer. "Seems like a good deduction."

"I did a deduction," Louise said glowing with pride.

"A wholly incorrect one," Sherlock stated. "If anything I am a high functioning sociopath."

John gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like 'Bollocks!'

"Mmm. Mmm." Sebastian lifted his eyebrows at the man. "Nah. I'm liking Louise's idea better."

"Your attempts to irritate me are unfounded," Sherlock said. 

"Mycroft has already managed that part," John added.

"Ah, so I joined this party very late." He grinned at Sherlock. "You should go try some of the food."

"Why would I be interested in food?" Sherlock said.

"So you can tempt Mycroft off his diet," John said with a smile.

"And it's delicious. My sister can *cook*." And she knew that the best way to get to his heart quickly was food. Food was... useful and a solution so many times. He waved a rib slightly.

"You.” Sherlock gestured at Louise. "Stay here." He got up and headed towards the barbeque. 

"Do you think I should follow him?" she asked Seb.

"I'm the wrong person to ask, because I say 'yes'," Seb grinned, looking over at John.

"He likes it really. He only tells you to stay somewhere when he wants you to run after him," John said waving a rib to illustrate his point.

He stifled a laugh, and took a bite of meat, grinning at John as Sherlock headed off with Louise sneakily following after.

"Loads of food," Sebastian murmured. "And also my sister giving both of us dirty looks."

"Dirty looks? We've been gentlemen I'll have you know," John said with a smile. "I haven't once tried to have you up against the table."

"No, no, about how 'we' were doing." He wouldn't have minded if John tried to have him up against the table as it was, he was lurking very close to John, and it felt good to just stand that near and be relaxed, and open and...Safe.

"So what were the dirty looks about then" John queried as he took the beer from him. "That is good stuff."

"I'm going to steal a case from her and then find the distributor," Seb agreed, leaning in close enough to kiss John, but not quite. "Whether our tension had passed."

"Oh god really?" John cringed a little. "I thought Harry was the only one obsessed with that. I hope you told her it was definitely gone."

"I did." He leaned in, and kissed the edge of John's temple. "Also, I want to fuck you behind the tire swing, and I can't."

"Seb..." John's eyes went bright at that suggestion however impossible it was. "Don't get me started."

"Tease," John said. He exhaled happily. "You know, I don't think my body knows how to deal with relaxation. One moment everything feels blissful, the next I'm having surges of adrenalin telling me something is bound to go wrong."

"You haven't met Greg?" John said. "Although Sherlock seems incapable of calling him anything but Lestrade. Names are trivial to him. He's a good guy...had a couple of pints with him on occasion when you've been away. Come on."

"You'll like him," John assured him. "Hey Greg, I see you've met my sister."

"We've had a good conversation," Greg said and put a hand out for Seb. “The other half I presume. John talks about you constantly." 

"You haven't been out of the army that long," Lestrade said. "And John never seems to forget he was a soldier either. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade if we are trading titles. Call me Greg. It's better that what Sherlock called me."

"Timmy?" He joked, and leaned back, closer to John, scanning as he did so. "It's good to meet you, Greg."

Lestrade chuckled gesturing to John. "Same here. You realise you are pretty much all John talks about when he's had a few. Well, after we've complained about how much of an arse Sherlock has been."

"I'm pretty sure I'm not that interesting," Seb joked.

"You are," John defended. "Besides, Greg likes the army stories. The more embarrassing the better." He grinned a little at Seb raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, we have those." He grinned a little, and then probed, "the question is, does the yard staff get as brain numbingly stupid as an army staff?"

"Sometimes I wonder how they detect their way out of the building," Greg put in. "You can imagine what Sherlock thinks of that."

"Not much." That was a hard position Lestrade had to have, bringing in a consultant, trying to have not interpreted badly by his people.

"I hear you do defense contracting," Lestrade asked. "John said you’d probably join them if you weren't overseas a lot."

"If it involves the possibility of chasing someone down then Seb would be there. He runs like a cheetah," John said.

"Always wanted to be the dog in cop movies. They always seem like such happy bastards -- Chase the bad guy, catch him, rip him up and then they get food and pettings." He nudged John a little. "More seriously, I’m hoping to stay in country for a while."

"That sounds good. Maybe with the two of you around you can keep Sherlock's mortal insults down." Lestrade said.

"An impossible fact I am afraid," Mycroft said strolling over.

"Sir." Sebastian greeted him with an inclination of his head, and a shift of posture he couldn't quite suppress. Even if Paul was sleeping with him.

"The formality is not necessary," he said giving John a look over that probably told volumes in itself. "Dr. Watson, thank you for giving more loyalty than my little brother deserves."

Watching the Holmes brothers do that was chilling, and he wondered what Mycroft had pulled from nearly thin air with a glance. "It's usually called friendship."

"The army bred loyalty," John said with a shrug. 

"May I have a moment to talk with Sebastian?" Mycroft asked them both.

Not that it needed to be asked so politely. Sebastian nodded, and half waved as he stepped back. "Sure, we'll just..." Retreat over by the tire swing, slightly out of the way, and he was only mildly concerned.

"I'll be drinking your beer Seb," John called after him as Mycroft led him away.

It left him concerned, because Mycroft usually didn't let himself be seen talking to anyone unless the important part was the inference of being seen. It was hard to guess what mental rabbit hole the man was working down on any particular day.

"Sebastian," Mycroft looked at him. "I believe these recent occurrences require a degree of resolution. Paul is aware but for some reason he seemed to think that you deserved answered from me." He looked faintly bemused by that as if he couldn't fathom it.

"Mmm. I am unsurprised," Mycroft replied. "It has been brought to my attention that you deserve more from your country than a cursory well done. You will be contacted regarding awards regarding your military service. Unfortunately our line of work does not lend itself to public displays of recognition, so I hope this will suffice."

"Could you be any more ridiculous Mycroft?" Sherlock said appearing from a discreet hiding place.

Awards from his military service. Curious, funny thing, but he could think of a few things that might've warranted it that hadn't ever come up. It felt surreal to hear that. "I, I didn't expect that." Even with Sherlock's intrusion.

"Oh really?” Sherlock moved to face him. "Medals were a certainty considering what you have helped to seal up, and your heroic escape. I'm just surprised it wasn't done before. Anyone would think the ordinary process was delayed wouldn't they Mycroft?"

"Really Sherlock. Do stop being petty." Mycroft handed Seb an envelope. "You had a distinguished military service, you gave valuable intelligence which you followed through despite your own circumstances of injury."

He wanted to ask 'which time', but reached out, took the envelope with care. "Why does this feel like you're putting an old horse out to pasture?"

"I would scarcely waste a resource." Mycroft actually sounded offended.

"He is buttering you up so you will stay," Sherlock said helpfully. "After all, the protection detail did not go to plan, you had to pretty much rescue yourself. You've been tortured and blown up. Most normal people..." and that was sent with a tone of disgust, "...would expect more."

It was hard to not smile, looking down at the envelope, and then looking back up at the Holmes brothers. Mycroft Holmes, buttering him up, and it wasn't even necessary. "I'm alive, and I have a home. I don't, I swore an oath when I joined the army, to defend against all enemies."

"Yes well, the stakes were high enough that it would have been...rude to not acknowledge them in some way." Mycroft said. "Without your escape and input we would have unaware of a potentially catastrophic situation."

Seb noticed Paul had decided to join them as well, approaching silently out of habit. "He's being an idiot about this isn't he?" Paul said. "Open the envelope and you might get an idea of what the stakes were from their token acknowledgement."

"Yes you and John now don't have Mycroft as a Landlord," Paul said. "213b Baker Street belongs to you both."

"Excellent," Sherlock seemed pleased by that.

Neighbors that he enjoyed playing with. Sebastian read it, tried to take it in, and started to carefully fold the paperwork back into the envelope. "I didn't expect this. I, thank you."

"Yes well," Mycroft cleared his throat. "It is hoped after suitable recuperation time you will continue to serve your country."

"With me. And a team of specialists." Paul added. "Moriarty's in custody, and we have a short window of opportunity to get into his information network before everyone cottons on."

"The fact he didn't let people know who he was will help. We've been...imitating his responses, keeping up a fiction." Sherlock said. No wonder he had been in an almost mellow mood recently.

His brain had to be running overtime to keep at it. "I'd be honored to continue to serve." Seb tapped the envelope, closed now, idly against his hip. "I honestly thought this was going to be you giving me the shove off."

Paul punched him in the shoulder. "You are an idiot, too, Last. I'm not letting you out of my sight. You're team, you're one of mine." He grinned a little. "I don't recruit anyone but the best."

He leaned in, half hugged Paul. "I'm going to remind you of that the next time I wing you with a bullet."

"Bastard," Paul replied hugging him back. "Just for that, you get to deal with the new batch and their shake down. “

Yes, well, I do not want you to feel you have to work for me," Mycroft said. It went unspoken that he didn't want the unspoken understanding to keep an eye on Sherlock to be a 'job' any more.

"It's good work. And where else can I do this shit and not just be a mercenary asshole grifting off the evils of the world? If I wanted to be a warlord, I'd've stayed in Afghanistan." Training, training and building a unit, he was good with that, he enjoyed having men to lead. He'd bloody missed having men to lead.

"We might see if John is interested in the odd mission," Paul said. "Handy to have an up to speed doctor for rescue missions."

"Oh no, that's far too plebian for John," Sherlock said instantly. 

"You don't want us running off with him," Sebastian smiled. "Don't worry, it probably is too plebeian for him."

"We'll ask him if the situation arises," Paul said. Seb glanced around for John and saw that his sister had cornered him and he had a tense look to his expression, and was looking at one of the barbeque forks as if that might put him out of his misery one way or another.

It wasn't altogether a bad idea. "Speaking of, I think he needs an exfil. But I'm glad to get back to it."

"I'm going to delegate that exfil duty to my XO," Paul said. "Go and tell him the good news. Medals in it for him as well and we'll work out when we're ready to kick things off again. Got to be ready if something like this happens again." 

"When." Never if, just when. Sebastian wasn't naive about how the world worked, even if sometimes it surprised him. He pulled away from the Holmes, holding the envelope rather proudly.

He got back just in time to hear Harry go over what was old ground for her and John; he'd witnessed it a couple of times himself. "...and you didn't give a thought to me in the process of nearly getting yourself killed again did you? What it would do to me if my only family was killed and I was left alone."

"Frankly at that point I was trying to stay alive," John said in a terse tone. "So no, I wasn't giving you much thought as I was in the process of being blown up by a terrorist bomb."

"You shouldn't have been in that situation. If it weren't for..."

"You can stop right there Harry," John almost growled at his sister.

"I'm sorry, but you know it's true!" Harry over rose him ignoring the warning signs.

"John, just got a lovely recognition from the elder Holmes." He gestured with the envelope as he got closer. "Harry, good to see you."

"Sebastian," Harry acknowledged, folding her arms over chest defensively. John on the other hand relaxed.

"You got something from Mycroft? Might explain why he turned up in the first place. He does hate it when you go to his offices," John said with a smile.

"I sort of draw attention when I skulk in there," he admitted, passing John the envelope. "So how've you been, Harry?"

"How do you think I've been with you nearly getting my brother killed *again*?" Harry said with undisguised anger.

"Okay Harry, that's enough," John said sharply. Apparently he would shut her down for Seb and not for himself.

"It's the truth," she muttered a little deflated from the sudden come back. "I didn't nearly get him killed. It's a dangerous world, and john, john holds his own. He was great out there." He smirked, watching John as he toyed with the envelope.

"He's a doctor not a soldier anymore," Harry retorted unable to keep from biting back. "He should never have been a soldier, it was a waste."

"I think that's quite enough." This time it was Becks who interrupted. "Harry, you are a guest in my home. My brother has been a career soldier and I am very proud of that fact."

"It's different for him," Harry said in a casual way that was insulting in its obliviousness. "It's a shame...” 

"It's a shame you can't get your head out of your arse long enough not to be rude to your host, your own family and other guests many of whom are also of a military background." It was strange, but there were times Seb could hear himself in his sister. "Harry, I invited you here for John's sake. I told you earlier if you didn't mind your manners, you would have to leave."

Harry opened her mouth and Becks said, "Unless the next word out of your mouth is an apology, I don't want to hear it."

"I have a right to my opinion," Harry protested. 

"But not a right to thrust it down everyone's throat when they are being to well-mannered to cause a scene," Becks said. "I think it's time for you to leave don't you? Try this conversation again when John isn't being so constrained by being in company to take you to task for being an idiot."

"But...”

"Go," Becks said with finality and a glare that Seb remembered from his youth.

It had worked quite well on him, then, too, and he'd always taken it to heart. It wasn't quite how he'd hoped that would go, but he never did deal with Harry well, that god and country streak rearing up.

Much to everyone's surprise it apparently worked on her too, as she grabbed her handbag and stalked off in fine melodramatic style.

"Becks, I'm really sorry," John said looking very embarrassed. "She just worries about me."

"I worry about Seb, but I don't treat him like shit in front of his friends," Becks said. "Besides, it's my party, thrown for you guys, she had three warnings and she might start to think things through if people actually don't let her get away with it."

That was fairly optimistic, but Seb kept his mouth shut and nudged John's wrist gently. "So, the envelope is good news. And I'm sorry I provoked her by walking over."

John seemed to shake it off a bit and looked up at him. "Oh yeah? Good news from Mycroft? It could be a sign of the apocalypse."

"Mmm, I hope not. I think we can make the improvements to the stairs that you were talking about, now." There were things, about being a renter that you just couldn't fix, couldn't do anything about, and if was funny to be thinking of things in terms of setting his roots in even deeper.

John frowned a little, but hanging around Sherlock had evidently given his reasoning capacities a work out and a beaming smile spread across his face. "He didn't! Baker Street? It's ours?"

He grinned and tried to not lean into John in a way he knew might've looked creepy for most folks, but he'd missed being hands on and it was stupidly exciting. "Yes. Ours. So now I'm going to have to read up on how to fix stairs."

John looked a bit stunned. "I don't think I've ever lived in a place that belongs to me. Us."

"Me, either. Now it's... ours." He was grinning like a moron and that was okay.

"Congratulations!" Becks said. "And when you done all the things you can't do with a Landlord looking over your shoulder, I'm coming round to take a proper look."

It was hard for him to not feel a little giddy, attention fixed on John. "Just ours. That's..." Amazing. A relief, and a weight lifted, and he could go back to the work with a slightly different attitude.

Becks collected some clean glasses as Jeremy popped the champagne and pout out enough for those directly around them to have a small amount each.

"A toast," Becks said. "To my younger, crazier brother and John who must be even crazier to not just put up with him, but encourage him and their recognized heroism."

He took a sip, watching John, taking it in. He could remember the look on John's face after he'd been cut up, the fear in his eyes that first night out in the desert, trying to not die, shot, the hospital and the weight of it all. That they were there at all, that he could turn his head and watch John and have something genuine. Something that had survived and seen his worst. "To John, for being my rock."

"To Seb for being... mine," John said with a smile that promised a great many things in that one simple word even as they took a sip of the champagne. Right here and now, even if danger was ever present in their lives and had left its scars, physical, emotional and mental, Seb knew they could battle their way through it. He was too much a soldier in the blood to let go of that advantage.


End file.
